


Pineapples and Prejudice: Sanditon Season 2

by SweetKeats



Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: Cunnilingus, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Regency, Regency Romance, Romance, Sanditon, Season/Series 02, Sex, Sexual Discovery, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, repressed sexuality, sanditon season two, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23518411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetKeats/pseuds/SweetKeats
Summary: First, a note to my dear readers, I am writing and publishing these chapters as quickly as I can write and edit each individual one. Generally, I aim to post a new Chapter every Monday. There is an outline in place, and I can assure you that this story will provide you with the Sidlotte happy ending that so many of us desire. That being said, I feel it is fair to warn those of you with, shall we say sensitive constitutions, that this work will be decidedly NSFW (and I need hardly add, NSFA-not safe for  Austen either). If you are an Austen purist, or take issue with strong sexual themes, including but not limited to M/M, this is not the fanfic for you.This will be a bit of a twist on the bodice rippers of old, with an increasingly bold heroine discovering the joys of certain unmentionable pursuits. If this hasn’t frightened you off, do please enjoy!Sincerely, erotic romance novelist Jeannette Keats
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood & Sidney Parker, Charlotte Heywood/James Stringer, Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker, James Stringer/Others, sidlotte, sidney parker & others
Comments: 266
Kudos: 249





	1. The Invitation

My Dearest Charlotte,

How many months it has been since our last meeting! I do hope that you are well and that your family is all in the very best of health. Indeed, I am most anxious that they are doing exceedingly well, so that I may tempt you to leave them for a short while. You cannot imagine how interminably dull London is just now. My particular friend is very much engaged in various other affairs of late, and I find myself, more often than not, quite alone. I know that London is not perhaps where you would prefer to be given the choice, but I can assure you that I will endeavor to keep you in only the most stimulating company, or indeed all to myself if needs must. I am quite adamant that you come to me as soon as you are able. Write back with a date, and I shall send a coach for you. Please do not prolong my suffering with delay.

Yours,

Susan

**~~~**

“What was that letter that came in the post this morning Charlotte?” Mrs. Heywood asks, looking up briefly from her sewing.

Charlotte, pursing her lips, debates for a moment whether she should confide in her mother. Did she dare admit not only to the letters content, but also to how much she both longed to accept yet dreaded the consequence of doing so? Coming back home had been a bigger adjustment than she had anticipated. At times she was almost desperate for escape, aimlessly wandering the countryside, hoping for a life of adventure once more. But London? Could she really submit to the very possible likelihood of seeing _him_ again? Could she bear to see her once dear Sidney with his new wife? Though she hadn’t heard from Mary in some time, she feels certain that they must be married by now. _But why then, haven’t I heard anything?_ she wonders.

Before any seed of hope takes root in her heart, she plucks it out _. No_ , she remembers with a small sigh, _there is no sense in self torment_. She must move forward, not indulging in any more than the brief, occasional backwards glance. Instead, focusing once more on the present, she looks around the room. Watching her mother and sisters focused on their menial tasks steels her resolve. Anywhere, even London, must to be better than here. Perhaps, even as painful as it might be, seeing Sidney happily married will give her heart the closure it needs.

“It was a letter from Lady Worcester,” Charlotte begins, closing the book in her lap in anticipation of her mother’s questioning.

“Oh, that’s nice dear,” he mother replies, not looking up from her work.

Silence. No further inquiry. No further conversation. Just silence. Charlotte waits, hoping for even the shadow of a response, but her mother is once more engrossed in her work, meticulously pulling out a misplaced stitch.

Looking down at the wrinkles and creases ornamenting the worn cover of the book in her lap, she wonders if nothing more than this long succession of invariable days is to be her fate. In that small space between the promise of hopeless tedium and ecstatic torment, she makes her decision.

“Yes mother, it was rather nice. Lady Worcester has written to invite me to stay with her in London for a while. Might I accept, do you think?”

Her mother, in her concentration, seems to barely register Charlotte’s words, and misses the edge of anticipation in her voice all together.

“I should think it alright, considering who has asked you,” she serenely replies. Stopping to smile briefly at her eldest daughter, she returns to her work. “Be sure to ask your father, but I can see no harm in it. He’s gone to call on our neighbors, the Grants, but I’m certain he will say yes when he returns.”

“Thank you mama. I shall,” Charlotte responds.

Not wanting to lose her nerve, she rises from her spot on the sofa. The thrill of possibility courses through her once more, making her wonder why she had ever let her past disappointments affect her present happiness. She is of half a mind to walk the considerable distance to the Grants in search of her father, when it occurs to her that perhaps it would be wise to start on her response to Susan’s letter. In her father’s study she finds paper and quickly pens a reply, assuring her host that she will be waiting with bags packed until her carriage arrives. Her letter written, she has little choice but to pace restlessly around the house and gardens, waiting to tell her father the news.

Though certain of her decision an hour ago, Charlotte starts to lose her nerve the longer she waits for her father’s return. Could she really bear seeing Sidney and Mrs. Campion together? Undoubtedly, they would be moving in the same circles of Lady Susan. She was certain to meet them, at a concert, an assembly, an evening party. Was she truly strong enough to bear it? She had accepted almost immediately that Sidney had done what he had to do in order to save his brother from the harsh reality of debtor’s prison. Indeed, she admired his devotion to his brother, even though it had meant the destruction of all her hopes. The nobility of his sacrifice had somehow made it easier to bear. Charlotte suspected however, that bearing something when one didn’t have to witness its consequence was a far different affair.

Feebly, she attempts to remind herself that she didn’t even like Sidney that much for most of their acquaintance. Surely there must be other men as handsome as he in London. In fact she had seen them, though she paid them no mind, at Mrs. Moseley’s party. There must be one among their number that would be compatible. The longer that she had spent back home, the more she was beginning to accept that marriage to nearly anyone would be preferable to life as it was now.

“Charlotte. Charlotte.” Charlotte can hear the voice of one of her sister’s drift from down the hall, calling for her, freeing her from her silent musings. Looking up, she notices how dark the room has grown around her.

“Charlotte.” A small figure appears in the doorway. “Mama says to get ready for dinner. Father’s home.”

Father. The word sinks down into her stomach, making her feel slightly queasy. It was time to chart her course. Would she remain here, seeing no more of life and the world that this village and her books could provide, or was it time once more to strike out boldly and see where fate might lead her? Using an old trick she had read of once, she imagines a small ornate chest. Inside the chest she folds up and places all the tender feelings she once had for Mr. Sidney Parker as one might place gowns, hidden away until needed. Then she imagines a simple silver key, held by a small green velvet ribbon. Gently, she rubs an imaginary finger along the length of ribbon. _One final caress,_ she tells herself. Resolutely, she locks the chest, tucks the key away for safe keeping, and returns her attention to the present.

Thankfully, dinners at her house were not formal affairs, and so she finds herself ready and at the table just as everyone else settles down to hear their father offer a blessing over their humble meal. Staring down at the familiar dishes before her, she thinks of all the tastes and sensations she had been missing out on, that would once more be available to her in London. Marzipan, cakes, delicate creations, rich sauces. She smiles to herself remembering dear Arthur Parker and his exuberance for such culinary delights.

“Well Charlotte,” her father begins. “Mother tells me you’ve had a letter from a friend in London. A Lady Worcester, who I understand has invited you to stay with her. Do you mean to accept her invitation?”

Looking around the table, Charlotte’s eyes pass over the faces of each of her dear siblings. Her heart feels a small twinge at the thought of leaving them once more, but she knows she needs must.

“Yes father. I would very much like to accept.”

“I didn’t think you cared much for London. In your letters you seemed to find the place quite disagreeable, but I have no objections. Indeed it may be good for you. You seemed to thrive so when you were in Sanditon, and have been much depressed since your return. Therefore, you have my permission, if you truly want to go.”

“I do, father,” Charlotte replies.

“Well then, write her after dinner, and we can walk into town together tomorrow to post it.”

Charlotte’s hand involuntarily presses against the response to Lady Susan, already folded and addressed, tucked safely in her pocket. “Thank you father.”

For the next week, as the date of her departure grows ever closer, Charlotte resists the temptation to revisit the memories of her last trip away from home. She resists revisiting the time Sidney took her rowing. She resists reveling in the memory of the luscious feeling of his lips pressed against hers on their cliff top strolls. She even resists reliving the exquisite torment of his final declaration to her. She is exceedingly proud of herself as she sits in the parlor awaiting the arrival of Lady Susan’s coach.

“Well then,” her father declares, startling Charlotte, as she had not heard him enter the room.

Turning around, Charlotte tries not to think of how much she will miss her family, her father most of all. Though she loves him dearly, in her heart she hopes this will be the last time she passes an empty hour under his roof.

“Have you got everything you need for your trip, my dear?”

Charlotte nods, a small smile threatening the corner of her mouth.

“I know we will miss you dearly, as we did last time, but,” the old man begins, trailing off. He smiles weakly at Charlotte, before moving to take her small hand in his. “You have tried to conceal it, but I know that you have not been the same since your return from Sanditon. Whatever it was that depressed your spirits so, I can only hope that you do not suffer their being repeated once more.” Her father sighs, patting the back of her hand. “Though I should love to have you here with us always little bird, I feel more certain than ever that it is time for you to fledge.”


	2. A Journey

My Dear Charlotte,

I hope that this letter finds you and all your dear family in the very best of health. Life here in Sanditon is quiet at the moment, which is not at all unwelcome given the excitement of the past few months. Though the situation is still grave, our fortunes are not so bad as we first feared. We have however, been forced to economize, as you might imagine. Much of our fine furniture is sold, which made me feel wretched. At first, we were unsure of where we might now be able to live, but fortunately Lady Denham has stepped in and offered us her assistance in our time of need. With her niece Esther married and that villian Edward disowned, Denham place was happily, quite empty. Having no other relations, Lady Denham offered to let it to us on very favorable terms. This suits her quite well, as our new closeness allows her to stop by frequently and ensure that Tom does not become unduly distracted as he works to organize the repairs. I am happy to report that things on that front are moving forward at a goodly place. Indeed, given what we feared, things are not so bad. While I am not overly fond of the damp, dark rooms here at Denham Place, the children love the park, and have been given free reign over it by Lady Denham who tolerates them better than I would have guessed.

Arthur and Diana are still in London, and will probably remain there until the weather warms. Arthur writes often, expressing his despair that it is yet too cold to go sea bathing. I had no idea he was such an enthusiast! It seems my brother in law is full of surprises. Speaking of Tom’s brothers, you may not have heard that Sidney and Miss Lambe have been obliged to travel to the West Indies. I am not certain of all the details. I only know that last week he came quite unexpectedly and collected her. You might be surprised to hear that they barely took their leave before they were off at once to London. From there, they set sail for Antigua, and for now we can only hope that they will arrive safely. We are all abuzz with curiosity, wondering what it could be that made Sidney rush off like this. I know he must be so disappointed to once again postpone his long-delayed marriage to Eliza Campion.

It is my fondest wish that we were able to invite you to come stay with us again, but I wouldn’t wish this glacial house on anyone during the winter. Indeed, I often find myself daydreaming of warmer, happier times. Despite everything, Tom never lets me succumb to despair. He is constantly reminding me that Sanditon shall rise again. I trust that he is correct, and I hope that we will see you here before long.

Ever Your friend,

Mary Parker

After reading the letter for the third time, Charlotte folds it carefully before tucking the precious document away. It was quite fortuitous that Mary’s news had arrived only hours before Lady Susan’s carriage had. A delay in the post, and she would have missed it entirely. On first reading, Charlotte had purposely skipped over the quite vital information not only that Sidney was not in London, but also that he was not yet married either. She had been so determined not to read that he was happily wed, that she had elected to skim past the part of the letter that seemed to make mention of him. Therefore, it was not until her second reading, when she could no longer bear not knowing, that she devoured each line.

Instead of crushing her with news of Sidney’s happy marriage, the letter’s effect was quite the opposite. She would not, after all, witness the sight of the love of her life irrevocably attached to another. At least she would not have to bear that degradation yet. Needless to say, Mary’s news came as quite a shock. No matter how Charlotte had held onto the hope that her fortune might change with regards to Sidney, she knew it was never very likely. As the carriage jostled down the road, she couldn’t help but wonder, _Was there still a chance?_

Even now, after the third reading, she tries not to cling to false hope. True, Sidney was not married yet, but once his business in Antigua was settled he would be returning and then surely he and Mrs. Campion would waste no more time. Charlotte hated how Tom’s troubled finances had forced Sidney to sacrifice himself for the sake of his brother. She had wanted to hate Sidney for it too, but still she couldn’t.

Half torn between hope and despair, Charlotte wonders how much longer she can bear this torment. Though she had promised herself that she had set all thoughts of Mr. Parker aside, she still found herself locked in a battle of wills against her own treacherous heart. Indeed, while she had some measure of success avoiding thoughts of Sidney during her waking hours, her dream self was not so fortunate. More often than not, his handsome face invaded the fragile restfulness of her slumber.

Just last night she had had one of her dreams again. Strange, she had never had such delightful yet troubling dreams before she had gone to Sanditon. Since that fateful trip, however, something deep and indescribable had been awoken in her. At first she thought she would lose her mind with longing, so powerful were the feelings that these new dreams conjured. Unlike her private chambers at Mary and Tom’s townhouse, her shared bedroom at home offered her no space in which to be comfortably alone. Inhibited by her lack of privacy, Charlotte was entirely prevented from releasing the tension brought upon by her nocturnal flights of fancy. As a consequence, Charlotte had grown increasingly agitated in the mornings.

In Sanditon, thanks to the seclusion of her private bedroom, she had indulged in a slowly escalating period of self exploration. It was not uncommon on those nights and occasional early mornings alone in her room, that her increasing desire for Sidney had found her with her hand firmly lodged between her own thighs. From those first tentative moments, exploring her body, experiencing altogether new and indescribable sensations, she had always held an image of his handsome face in her mind.

Unfortunately, thanks to the constant presence of one or another of her family members, it had been some months since Charlotte had been able to experience the blessed release that often came with such self-probing. However, Charlotte realizes with a small thrill of excitement, she was once more completely alone. In the warm confinement of the coach, no one could see or hear what she was now in mind to do. Allowing last night’s dream to be her guide, she closes her eyes, willing herself to once more conjure the delectable visions that had so delighted her the evening prior.

As Lady Susan’s carriage bumps and jostles down the road she begins to replay last night’s images in her mind. In the dream she was somehow back in Sanditon, walking along the beach. She had been going in circles it seemed, trying in vain to make her way back to the town. She was late for something, but couldn’t remember what for or how to get where she needed to be. Then, as she had rounded a corner to a secluded cove, a bit of movement in the waves had caught her eye. It was Sidney emerging once more from the waves, but this time she did not avert her eyes. Instead she slowly watched as his entire body came into view.

He did not seem to mind her watching him, as the heavy drops of sea water cascaded down his chiseled frame. Wasting no time to dry himself, he had rushed toward her, enveloping her. She found she did not at all mind the wetness of his body as he pressed himself to her, claiming her mouth. Thinking how delicious it would be to once more feel his body pressed against her, Charlotte’s hand reaches up to unbutton her heavy winter coat. Peeling the garment aside, she reaches down the front of her dress. Gently pulling her breast up and out of the confines of the fabric, she reveals her already hardened nipple. Tweaking it slightly, sends a jolt of sensation throughout her body as she imagines it was Sidney’s hand, and not her own upon her. For some time, she caresses the sensitive flesh of her exposed bosom imagining Sidney teasing her, until the pulsing between her legs can no longer be ignored. Slipping her hand under the blanket on her lap, she remembers in her dream how Sidney had pressed his fingers firmly, urgently in exactly that same spot.

A sudden jolt from the carriage however, rudely interrupts these pleasant sensations. After readjusting the heavy wool over herself, she reaches underneath and begins to gather up the long fabric of her dress. The garment, now drawn up around her waist, would no longer impede her further explorations. Delving into her memories of the dream once more, she tries to remember where it had taken her next. Shifting, as images in dreams often do, her nocturnal fantasy had then brought her to the site of the Sanditon Assembly rooms. There she finds herself standing on the balcony once more. Looking over the crowds, she scans the room for Sidney, but he is not there. She is not left to wonder for long as to his whereabouts. From behind her, she hears a rustling noise and knows instinctively that it is him. As he approaches her, he says not a word, but rather lets out a raw, low growl as he snakes one hand around her waist. Even in the dream she could smell the unmistakable scent of him as he pressed himself against her back, pulling her tight against him.

Surreptitiously concealed behind the closed curtains of the coach, the longing inside Charlotte continues to build to a fevered pitch as she imagines Sidney covering her neck and shoulders with soft but powerful kisses. Though propriety would never allow such things to occur in real life, in her fantasy Sidney was not forced to conform to any sense of decorum. Instead, he slides his hand down the front of her dress, cupping her breast, pressing his rigid frame against her. Pulling her back towards him, they melt into the shadows of a darkened corner as she hears Sidney moan with longing for her. Removing his hand, she turns to face him, a look of mock disapproval on her face. His, “I couldn’t help myself“ look melts her resolve to chastise him for such ungentlemanly behavior. Instead, she allows him even greater liberties, as she presses herself to him once more. This time, after covering her lips and collar with increasingly frenzied kisses, he brings her breast to his mouth. With his teeth and tongue, he multiplies the pleasant sensations that his fingers had elicited.

At this, the climax of her remembered dream, Charlotte plunges her own fingers between her legs. Finding once more that tiny nub, Charlotte discovers that this most sensitive area is now quite receptive to her touch. With increasing vigor, she rubs that source of pleasure, which she had first begun to explore only months before, until she erupts in a quiver of sensation. Breathless from the excursion, Charlotte sits for a moment in the pleasant afterglow of her release. Smoothing her skirt back down, she thinks of how grateful she is, even with the remainder of the long ride to London before her, for this time alone.

 _Well, so much for putting all thoughts of Sidney from my mind_ , she thinks, as she reproaches herself for the backwards slip into past habits. Despite numerous promises to herself, she had many, many times back in Sanditon touched herself whilst thinking of Sidney. In truth, after most, if not all of her encounters with the tall, handsome, Parker brother her hands had somehow found their way between her legs. _I’m at least glad he won’t be in London,_ she tells herself, full of hope that the temptation to return to such thoughts of Mr. Parker will somehow diminish the longer he stays away.


	3. Antigua

Tom,

I am writing this brief note to inform you of my and Miss. Lambe’s safe arrival in Antigua. I will explain now the reason for our abrupt departure, as I could not do so earlier. Two days before I collected Miss Lambe I received word that her previously unknown maternal aunt was set to be sold in the coming months. Through my contacts in Antigua, who first informed me of this, I was able to track down this relation’s current owner. He agreed to the odious necessity of selling Georgiana’s aunt to me, but only if I was the highest bidder at auction. You can imagine what I would have liked to say to this individual, but until the freedom of Miss. Lamb’s aunt was secured, I could not reveal my true feelings.

I admit now that it probably was not wise to have Georgiana come along with me on this journey. In my mind I thought that in bringing her home I might atone for the mistakes I have made as her guardian. Well, I will be the first to admit I have blundered again. While she was indeed eager to see the land of her birth once more, she is much distressed by the purpose of our visit. As you might imagine, she is furious that we should have to pay this gentleman for a member of her family. I can only hope that our business will be concluded soon and that the three of us shall be back in England before midsummer. Give my love to Mary, and all your dear children.

Sincerely,

Sidney

Setting down his quill, Sidney curses himself for his part in the events that brought him here. Everything was his fault. He had once more piled mistake upon mistake until he found himself wretched. The nagging feeling that made everything worse was how real happiness had been so nearly in his grasp. Perhaps he truly was one of those people who was never destined to be satisfied in life. His life was just to be one sad comedy after another, full of missed opportunities and no second chances. There was no way he could back out of his promise to marry Eliza now, not once his and Georgiana’s business here was over. There were too many debts to be settled, and not just with Tom’s creditors, he owed a dizzying amount of intangible things to others. More than could ever be repaid. There was Tom who had paid his debts, Georgiana’s father who had rescued him from himself. Then there was Eliza, whom he had now made promises, and even Charlotte to whom he owed recompense for the unforgiveable crime of breaking her heart.

Though he had delayed his sentence, he had not commuted it. His punishment for his sins would be waiting for him once he returned to England. Charlotte had told him that he must forget their feelings, that he must make himself love Eliza again. Still he cannot fathom how such a task was to be accomplished. Fool that he was, he had deceived himself into believing that returning to Antigua would make him remember how much he had once loved Eliza. Here on these shores, it was not those loving memories that returned to him, only the pain of her rejection.

Being back in Antigua, all those long forgotten memories of what life was like after Eliza had destroyed him, came rushing back. He remembers in increasing states of anguish, how he had acted, what a broken horrible man he had become. All of his current misery could be traced back to the exact moment ten years ago when Eliza broke off their engagement. He had been out of his mind with a potent mix of grief and anger. It had led him to throw the promises of his life away. He gambled, drank, whored and indulged in every excess until his older brother Tom had been forced to intervene. Poor Tom, he was entirely too good for this world. His only crime was having too much belief both in himself, and to his detriment, in others. And so Tom had paid his debts, convincing Sidney to leave the misery of England for a climate that might be more conducive to his recovery.

Unfortunately, the demons that pursued him in England followed him to the West Indies. Knowing that there was no one to save him now, he doubled down on his dissolution. In Antigua he would have succeeded in ending his own miserable life, had it not been for the intervention of Georgiana’s father. Even just thinking about those times, makes the room he sits in feel incredibly close and uncomfortable. Struggling to breathe, he can stay no longer cooped up inside with his memories of past mistakes. Retrieving his hat and jacket, he readies himself for what he imagines will be rather a long walk.

The street, however, was not such a pleasant alternative as Sidney had imagined. The hot, heavy air seemed to push at him from all directions. The sensation it elicited was of being still trapped, though out of doors. Determined to press on in spite of the environment, he puts one foot in front of the other, not truly caring where his steps take him, so long as it is someplace far away from where he is now. He had come to Antigua to liberate himself as much as he had come to liberate Georgiana’s aunt. Neither task was yet accomplished, and as each familiar landmark he passes brings some painful memory to the surface, he wonders if they ever will be. He had not expected it would be this way. When he had justified this trip to himself he didn’t think that his history would be so potent here, confronting him at every corner. If anything, his mind was more troubled now than it had been before.

As he continues down a small alley, a twinge of memory assaults him once more. There on his left, was an unobtrusive little door, something that you would miss if you weren’t looking for it. Sidney knew it well. He knew of the clouds of opium smoke that would be drifting from a side room, the courtesans lain out across velvet couches in various states of undress, the threadbare carpets, the distant sounds of other people’s ecstasy. The memory of the sensations he once felt here stirs something inside him. More than once in recent days, thoughts of his encounters with Charlotte, his dreams of her, had led him to take himself in hand, if only to relieve the longing trapped inside.

Self-pleasure was usually enough to release the pressure, but his hand was a poor substitute for what he really wanted. Now with his emotions so muddled, he convinces himself that it wouldn’t hurt to enlist the company of one of the ladies that he knew would be just on the other side of the door. Impulsively, he reaches for the knob and turns it. As the door gives way, it opens to a tall, narrow stairway. Immediately he is assaulted with the familiar smell of opium smoke, another memory that brings him shame. All those years ago, he had turned to the poppy again and again when he was so desperate to forget, to lose himself. If Georgiana’s father had not, for whatever reason, forcefully drug him from that place, he would have never mustered the strength to leave on his own.

For a moment, he hesitates on the first step. What if he could not now resist the temptation to chase the dragon once more? Is he not the same weak man he once was? But he dismisses that thought. He could never return to the false comfort of opium now that he had Georgiana to care for and her aunt to save. Moreover, it would be dishonoring Mr. Lambe’s memory if Sidney surrendered himself for selfish reasons to a life of oblivion. With utmost certainty, he knows he will never yield to that particular longing. Other transgressions however, were more benign. It was simply a matter of biological necessity that a man appeases the baser desires inside himself from time to time. This was a widely held belief. It is that certitude which comforts him as he makes his ascent.

Inside the dimly lit room, the proprietor approaches Sidney, making various assurances as to the health and skills of the various members of the assembled harem. Looking over the faces of the women presented to him, he thinks back to how many years ago there was one blonde in particular that he preferred almost exclusively. In his own delusion, he had pretended she was Eliza. Through his fantasy he would perform all the acts he had longed to do with her, but never would. _Eliza._ Her name conjured all the shame and heartache afresh. Was he dishonoring Eliza by coming to this establishment? _No,_ he reminds himself, almost certain that she did not hold any true feelings of love towards him.

Dismissing his thoughts of Eliza, he wanders the room. Draped across a settee, Sidney finds one woman more appealing than the others. She is fair, with a sweet face, full lips, and a wild, untamed mane of deep chocolate brown hair. The thought surfaces that this woman closely resembles Charlotte, but as he has promised himself not to dwell on that which he cannot have, he tries his best to ignore the plain truth that she bore more than a passing resemblance to his now lost love.

After a brief exchange, Sidney finds himself following the courtesan to a small private room, with a small bed, dressing table and chair. Once the door is closed behind them, the woman gets to her work. Her small, delicate hands roam freely over his body, slipping in between his light weight jacket and shirt.

“Why not remove your coat sir?” the woman instructs, as she presses herself against him.

“Presently,” is all he can manage to reply, as his throat tightens. For some reason that he cannot fully articulate to himself, he did not like the way in which this woman was taking charge. This was not the way he wanted this encounter to go.

Even from the earliest time Sidney had fantasized about Charlotte, she was neither a passive, nor a timid lover. She was aggressive, playful, even domineering at times, making him serve her, satisfy her before she would allow him any sort of release. He liked to imagine how Charlotte’s frank, self assured nature would be mirrored in more private affairs. Having this admittedly poor substitute for her acting this way though, made him deeply uncomfortable, the comparison being too close for comfort. Instead, he decides that he must be the one in charge here so that he might take back the power that will satisfy him.

“Undress over there please,” Sidney finally manages to say, pointing in the direction of the dressing table across the room.

Settling into the nearby chair, he unbuttons his breeches. As he directs the woman step by step what to do, he takes hold of his semi-rigid staff, attempting to ready his body for what he believed was not only justified but necessary. Sitting there, stroking himself, his mind swings wildly between trying to fool itself into the belief that this was Charlotte, and wanting the woman to be anyone but her. Closing his eyes tight, he tries to block out all thought and focus only on what needed to be done.

“Everything alright sir?” asks the woman who now stood completely naked before him.

“No. Er, yes,” is his shaky reply. “Get on the bed now. On your hands and knees please, facing away from me,” he directs. Sidney knows he will lose his nerve if he has to look into this woman’s face and see her for who she truly was, and not for some fantasy in his mind.

The woman complies, climbing onto the bed in a familiar, alluring way. Moving towards her, Sidney takes his cock in hand. The longing within him was so powerful now, he could feel it throb with every beat of his pulse. There before him was what he knew would make everything better, if only for a little while. Placing a hand on the woman’s posterior, he spreads her, readying to join with her in that most intimate of ways. However, just as he is placing himself at her entrance, Charlotte’s face comes once more to his mind.

The look she had was not the one of longing or of ecstasy that he usually imagined at times like this. No, it was the one she had shown him at the Sanditon Regatta. That same look had broken his heart. It was only then that he saw how she had come to care for him, and that he had the power to hurt her. In that moment, he had seen the anguish play out across her beautiful face. There and then he made a promise to himself that he would never harm her again. But of course he had broken that promise almost immediately. Lamentably, he had no control over that. He had to repay Tom. It was his only chance to settle that debt once and for all. But this? This he had control over. Finally steeling his resolve, he pulls back from temptation. Tucking his rapidly diminishing self away, Sidney tells the woman that he will no longer require her services, though she will still be paid.

For a long moment, he sits on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands as the unnamed woman dresses. Before she leaves, she reaches out to gently touch his shoulder. The small act threatens to bring tears stinging his eyes, and it is a long moment before he can bring himself to stand.

“I am such a fool,” he says aloud to the now empty room.


	4. News from Georgiana

Dear Charlotte,

You have probably heard by now that Sidney and I are in Antigua. I expect that you would imagine me happy to be back in my native land. The truth is I am perhaps now even more miserable here than I was in England. I find this to be a hostile, barbaric sort of place, especially for a woman, and even more so for a woman of my heritage. I will not try your patience with a full account of what I have witnessed here. There are more important tales to tell. It occurs to me that while you may have heard of my journey, I doubt you will have heard the reason for our visit to this place. I will henceforth undertake to enlighten you.

My guardian lately heard from his contacts here that my mother’s sister was set to be sold in the coming weeks. Can you imagine? It was too horrible to bear. My aunt, my own flesh and blood, considered a thing to be bought, no more than a piece of property. Well, I am happy at least to say that we have accomplished our aim; my aunt is safe for now. The three of us have been staying at my father’s, which I suppose is to say _my home_ , which is being kept in trust for me, should I want it someday. I cannot imagine ever wanting another thing to do with this dreadful Island. Funny, isn’t it, that the land of my birth should be so different now in my estimation? I feel this to be no more my home than England is. God, am I forever to be unmoored like this? Where in this world can someone like me possibly belong?

The only good I find in this endeavor, apart from the rescue of my aunt, is that I now have a better understanding of how precarious my fate is and always has been. Had my father not so loved me and my mother, I would no doubt have been by my aunt’s side at the auction block. I am happy that I did not have to witness the humiliation of Sidney buying her as he might have bought me a present. I was angry at him at first for leaving me behind, but now I see it was a kindness. After hearing of my aunt’s tragic life, I do not think I could have borne to see for myself the place of her degradation. I am beginning to understand in ways I could not before, that Sidney has at times always considered my interests, perhaps even occasionally to the detriment of his own.

Thanks to my father, I at least have freedom and property, which is more than most of my complexion on Antigua can say. But as you well know, not even freedom and money could have saved me from the ruination that I came uncomfortably close to. Had Sidney not undertaken my guardianship, no matter how incompetently, I would now be just as much a slave to that odious man as my aunt was to her master. While I can admit that I have a better appreciation of the meager efforts Sidney has made on my behalf, still he infuriates me. Do you know what his solution is for my vulnerable position is? Matrimony! I could murder him just for the suggestion. He wants me to sell myself into another form of slavery. Can you imagine? And where exactly am I supposed to find a husband? In the meat markets of London Society? Do you think my fortune more likely to attract the kind of man who would care about my personhood, or just more wolves like Edward Denham, clothed in sheep’s finery?

If Sidney keeps insisting on my marriage as the only way to protect myself, then I may be compelled to propose to his younger brother, Arthur Parker. Wouldn’t that be a fine joke? I can almost imagine it now. If it weren’t so absurd, it would be an excellent idea. It’s hysterical to me to even consider loving someone who does not elicit romantic feelings in me. But then, I loved Otis with my body and soul and look how that turned out. Has not Arthur been my defender, my champion? He welcomed me in a way that no one in Sanditon did, save you. Perhaps it is not such a terrible idea after all.

Even for all the good he believes it might do me, I still cannot believe Sidney of all people would suggest marriage would somehow solve all my problems. He himself is about to marry, and if you were to talk to him you would see that this prospect brings him little joy. In fact, quite the opposite seems to be true. He now appears more miserable than I have ever known him to be. Everyone goes on and on about how much he loved Mrs. Campion, how he first came here trying to get over her after she cast him aside, but I cannot imagine it. She seems like a horrible, proud, and disdainful woman. What kind of unfeeling heart would throw away true love because someone with more money came along?

In unreserved moments, Sidney has talked with me about those days, about his coming to Antigua and his reason for it. He told me how he owes my father a great debt because Papa had made him his protégé all those years ago, giving him purpose. In light of these new revelations I can report that the arrogant, preening Sidney Parker I once knew is gone, if indeed he ever existed. Sadly, he is so good at dissembling, I wonder if anyone will ever know his true self.

Now that we have secured my aunt, Sidney says we will be returning to England soon. He seems to hate it here as much as I do. This enormous house that my father left me is suffocating in a way that I did not remember it being as a child. Perhaps in my childish ignorance, there were a great many things I did not realize were conspiring to stifle me. I cannot bear that proposition above all else. How can I tolerate being any less than myself? With this attitude, what kind of a wife could I ever make someone? You know me enough to know that I will never be the servile type that Englishmen seem to favor. Perhaps it will be my fate to die a hated spinster like Lady Denham, with vultures hovering over my death bed. What a curse it is to be a woman and be so dependent on men! I would say I hate the lot of them, but Sidney has actually grown in my estimation. He is not the cruel bully I once imagined him. I actually feel quite sorry for him at the moment. He seems now to be almost as uncertain and lost as I am.

Our journey back to England is not likely to be a pleasant one, as the trip here was interminably dull. Nothing but ocean stretching out for days, though Sidney tells me I should be grateful it was not more exciting. I hope that I can come and visit you or you me, when I return. I feel like I have learned such a lot in my time here, about Sidney, about what it means to be a woman, how precarious our situations truly are. Despite my protestations I fear that without the protection of a husband, I will fall victim to the whims of men as my aunt has, as so many women do. I hope that you find someone worthy during your time in London. Take prodigious care of yourself until I return, and do not undertake anything which I would not.

Your dearest friend,

Georgiana

Charlotte hardly knows what to think as she closes the letter. Georgiana’s account of Antigua was so shocking, it nearly bordered on disbelief. To imagine that a member of one’s family could be treated thus; it was too terrible to imagine. But that was not all that shocked Charlotte about the letter. Georgiana’s new attitude to Sidney was not one that Charlotte could have anticipated. Sidney’s pain must indeed be acute, if Georgiana was able to perceive it.

Poor Sidney Charlotte thinks, setting aside the letter. Her heart breaks for him almost as much as for her own. They had both come so close, but it was not to be. In her many dreams of romance and adventure that she had as a girl back in Willingden, she had never imagined she would ever find herself in a situation as heart rending as this. Before she traveled to Sanditon, her path was clear. She probably would have married someone eventually. There were enough young men around her village that would have been suitable, though none of them had ever stirred anything in her as Sidney could.

Like scores of women before her, love’s disappointment had found her. She had loved Sidney so profoundly, but that was not enough. A part of her wishes he would stay forever in Antigua, so he cannot return to marry Mrs. Campion and seal their fates. She now dreads his return to England, for though he would be nearer to her, they would be forever separated. How could she bear it?

Sitting in the solitude of her room, agonizing once more over her sad situation, the old phrase comes to her mind: “If one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another.” Could this really be true? Charlotte wonders. Could she still find happiness without the man her heart longed for? When she first arrived in London two weeks ago, that had been Lady Susan’s advice. “They had fought the good fight,” Lady Susan had said, but Mrs. Campion had won. Now that a formal engagement was in place, there was little that could free Sidney from his promises. While Lady Susan did not like to admit there was any such thing as a foregone conclusion, it seemed at least in this case that there was. Bearing the finality of this in mind, Charlotte had attempted to enjoy her new position in London’s Beau Monde.

Indeed Charlotte was grateful to Lady Susan for becoming her patroness. Through her, there were a great many pleasures that were accessible to Charlotte now for the first time. All of society did seem, as Tom had said, to revolve around them; the most exclusive parties, the best seats at any performance, the finest delicacies. The world truly was their oyster. The choice was then for Charlotte to make. Was she simply to sit and bemoan her great loss, or to enjoy life for what delights it could still hold?

A sudden whim to be out of doors, leads Charlotte to dress hastily, leaving her breakfast half finished beside Georgiana’s letter. Impulsively grabbing a bonnet and shawl, she barely takes the time to brush her hair before heading down the labyrinthine passageways of Lady Susan’s shockingly extensive, lavishly decorated town house. Two flights of stairs later, Charlotte finds herself hopelessly lost once more. Knowing she must be somewhere on the main floor, she curses herself for not paying better attention to the layout of this confounding building.

Upon turning a corner, she happens upon her dear friend Susan, sitting in the conservatory. It takes Charlotte longer than she would like to admit to realize that Susan is not alone. Though she cannot see the gentleman’s face, for it was hidden under the many layers of her friend’s skirts, Charlotte does not fail to apprehend that something deeply personal was taking place. The looks of ecstasy on her friends face puzzle and arouse something inside her, as Charlotte strives to make sense of the scene. She is concentrating so hard, that she fails to apprehend that she should not bear witness to such intimacy, until Susan’s eyes flutter briefly open, meeting her own. Suddenly self-conscious Charlotte turns on her heel, leaving the room just as Susan’s cries of pleasure reach their crescendo.


	5. A Dinner

My Dearest Sidney,

Every day that you are gone is agony for me. I can only bear to pass the time lost between the pages of a book. Only that pursuit offers distraction from my constant thoughts of you. When walking, I imagine you are walking beside me. When out riding, I picture your horse trotting before me. If I am at a dinner, then I imagine what our conversation might have been. Though you will think me too bold to say so, I sometimes even lie in my bed at night imagining that you are at my side. How I wish you were near me once more; I cannot bear this separation.

You may have heard that I have recently left my home in Willingden and am in London now. Lady Worcester has shown me particular condescension with her attentions. I am now a guest in her rather overwhelming London home, and through her have been invited to so many places I have lost count. Now that I am more used to them I am beginning to appreciate these diversions more. Despite my repeated attempts to put you from my mind, you are ever present in my thoughts.

I cannot wait until you return home, my love. Then everything will again be as it ought. I long for the day when you will take me into your arms once more. How well I remember the feeling, the sensation of your being wrapped securely around me, the feel of your lips against mine. Lips that were full of promise that more kisses would follow. I eagerly anticipate the day when that promise will be satisfied. Until then I shall forever be…

Yours truly,

Charlotte

Upon penning her signature, Charlotte sits back to look over what must be the hundredth of such letters she has written. Taking the letter in her hand, she completes the process that this event unwaveringly followed. Carefully she folds the letter. Bringing it up to her lips, she presses a kiss to the smooth paper before promptly, efficiently tearing it into as many pieces as she can. Holding the small bits of her articulated heart carefully in her hand, she walks them to the nearby fireplace. With a whispered prayer, she consigns her words to ash and smoke. Though Charlotte knows it is a foolish thought, a part of her hopes that somehow the fire will carry those words to her beloved Sidney.

Her little ritual now undertaken, Charlotte returns to her dressing table. Though things were not near as bad as her letter might make them seem, thoughts of Sidney did lead her to distraction more often than she would like to admit. She had at first found it unbearable to dance with anyone after having danced her last with Sidney. It was not until she began to imagine that she was dancing with her now lost love, that she was able to do so without stumbling. She would have just as soon given up dancing entirely, only that she did not wish to disappoint Lady Susan, who was so insistent that Charlotte not give up on men so soon.

Lady Susan, Charlotte thinks wistfully. With a sigh Charlotte realizes that she admires Susan now more than ever. Her friend was even more knowledgeable, insightful, witty, and generally brilliant than she had realized before. As a consequence, Charlotte was more than a little afraid of Susan sometimes. In her worldliness there was a touch of danger, as though one courted chaos by knowing too many things about life. Before knowing Susan, Charlotte’s world was comfortably small. The introduction of certain concepts, not the least of which was Susan’s unspoken of connection to the Prince Regent, threatened to upset the natural order that Charlotte once imagined her life to have.

A rather large part of her day had been spent trying to make sense of what Charlotte had seen in the conservatory earlier that morning. She had crisscrossed the park many times, and coming no closer to answers to her mind’s struggles, had returned to find the house abuzz with activity. There were servants everywhere dusting things that seemed perfectly clean in Charlotte’s estimation. It seemed wherever she looked deliveries were being brought in. At first, Charlotte had searched for Susan, but in all the commotion could not find her anywhere, and so had returned to her room. There, alone with her thoughts once more, muddled as they were with occasionally overwhelming longing for Sidney, she had tried once more to puzzle out the events of the morning.

Who the man under Lady Susan’s skirts had been was almost an afterthought in the face of what he had been doing. Whatever it was, there could be no doubt that Susan was enjoying it. Was the unknown man kissing her in that most sensitive of places? Charlotte’s mind reels at the possibilities. What would it feel like to experience the heat of a man’s breath, the pressure of his lips, upon her in that sacred place? The thought excites her as her hand trails unconsciously to that very spot. Pressing her fingers against herself, the pleasant sensations build as she tries to picture what such a scene might look like, might feel like, if it were instead she and Sidney in the conservatory.

Charlotte very nearly has a complete picture in her mind when a gentle rapping at her door interrupts her silent activities. Straightening herself out, she bids the unseen person enter. It is then that Lady Susan appears from around the doorframe, her usual, serene self.

“Charlotte, there you are,” Susan begins with a smile. “You might have noticed some unusual activity in the house today.”

Charlotte freezes, unable to speak. She had not expected Lady Susan to be quite so direct. Indeed, Charlotte had assumed that she and Susan would never discuss what had or had not been witnessed earlier.

“A dear friend of mine has returned to town,” Susan begins as Charlotte’s stomach lurches. “I’m giving him a dinner party this evening. Despite what you might have seen, with everyone running about downstairs, it will be a very simple supper.”

Charlotte releases her breath, relieved that Susan was not in fact talking about the events of the morning.

“I can sense your apprehension,” Susan continues. “I know this is rather late notice. Do not make yourself uneasy. This is not to be a formal affair, though the elaborateness of my preparation may seem to say otherwise. I only seek to ensure that we have every opportunity to enjoy ourselves this evening. I can assure you that unlike some of the parties we have attended lately, this one will have only the most select and stimulating persons, among whom you will find none but the greatest philosophers, artists and poets of our great age.”

“Well, that is certainly something to look forward to,” Charlotte replies, relieved, yet slightly disappointed that the subject of the conservatory will not be breeched.

“Very good then. I shall send Louisa to help you get dressed.” Lady Susan turns, preparing to leave when she stops short, as though she had just remembered something. “My dear, I want you to know that I am aware that you saw me and my friend this morning. I am most anxious to discuss this with you, but such conversations require time, the luxury of which I do not possess presently.”

Charlotte nods, unable to meet Susan’s eye.

“Well then. I’ll see you later tonight,” Susan says with a knowing smile as she leaves the room.

~~~

Dinner that evening was an understated, yet elegant affair. Charlotte could not remember a time when she had enjoyed herself as much. Just as Susan had promised, the assembled company was superior in every way to other such dinners they had attended. After the initial flush of embarrassment Charlotte had found the Prince Regent to be a most agreeable person. He seemed to have none of the pretensions that one of his power and influence might have had. Indeed, he seemed very much used to his ideas and opinions being challenged by the members of their party. After dinner and well into the small hours of the morning a sort of verbal battlefield had been erected between these walls. There, ideas surfaced, were challenged, and defended. Territory was lost and gained by both sides in turn. On the whole it was a most entertaining affair. Charlotte had never experienced its like before, and once prodded a little, by some sincere inquiries, she found herself very much able to hold her own amongst such company.

Charlotte was particularly grateful for the gentleman whom she was seated next to at dinner. His easy, open manner of conversing was just the thing she needed to coax her out of her self-consciousness. From the first, he had quite disarmed her with a series of innocuous and humorous observations about the assembled crowd. Therefore it was almost from the first moment that Charlotte realized she admired the man. His dress, his comportment, and his manner of talking, were all exceedingly pleasing to her. They were soon so easy together that one might have taken them for old friends, and not the strangers that they were. He had been introduced to her as Lord Grey, a name she found easy to remember as he was wearing a grey suit which matched his eyes.

The following morning, Charlotte lies in bed a good while, being unused to such late hours. Surprisingly, it is Lord Grey and not Sidney who occupies her thoughts as she luxuriates in her self-indulgence. The man was an enigma to her. He was in many ways, everything she had once imagined an ideal man should be. Of course that ideal had been challenged by Mr. Parker, to the point of obliterating it entirely. With Sidney it had been the real, and not the ideal, that had attracted her. Now in the face of a living, breathing example of what a man ought to be, what was she to do? As Charlotte tries to conquer her conflicting thoughts, her mind is abuzz with potentialities. With help from a man like Lord Grey, could she really put Sidney aside like she had been told to do?


	6. The Regent's Ball

Miss Heywood,

I very much enjoyed our conversation last evening at Lady Worcester’s salon. It is my dearest hope that I shall see you again in the near future. Tell me, will you be attending the Regent’s Ball at week’s end? I hope that you are, and that you will consent to dance with me. If I may be allowed, I should like to engage you for the first dance at the very least. I know a sparkling jewel like yourself will be in much demand. Please write with your reply. I remain your servant,

~ Lord Edmund Grey

Charlotte smiles to herself as she refolds the note. If ever there was proof to be had of a man’s interest, here it was in black and white. With Sidney, it was not until he had kissed her that she knew where she stood with him. He was so careful to conceal himself, lest his heart be hurt again. Lord Grey, in contrast, seemed quite open with his affections. _I must have made an impression on him, as he did on me,_ Charlotte thinks as she tucks the brief missive into the back of the rather remarkable book she was reading.

Lady Susan was out meeting a friend for tea, otherwise Charlotte would not be reading such a book so freely. The title itself, Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure would have thrown Charlotte’s mother into hysterics. In spite of her knowing she was being silly, still she found herself guiltily snapping the book shut whenever she heard a noise in the house. Though they were many miles away, she had to keep reminding herself that her family was not here to catch her in the act. Even with Susan out of the house Charlotte was more than a little embarrassed to be reading it, however, she could not stop herself.

As to the book’s strange appearance one day in her room, she was certain that was Lady Susan’s doing. Charlotte was also fairly certain that, shortly after the book arrived, Susan had purposely left a collection of rather shocking engravings on the library table. The artist, whom Charlotte later discovered was named Thomas Rowlandson, had a particular talent for capturing certain unseemly acts. Though Charlotte felt guilty just looking at them, she had a hard time forgetting the images. Never before had she seen in such detail the intimacies which Fanny Hill described. Charlotte found them deliciously compelling and yet slightly frightening.

Even so, Charlotte was grateful that, whether through intention or carelessness, the engravings had been left out. The lascivious drawings had decidedly brought a new level of clarity to Charlotte’s imaginings, especially where Sidney was concerned. At the Sanditon coast, she had seen him in all his glory, so to speak, but her eyes had not lingered on that particular area which Mr. Rowlandson seemed to favor in his drawings. Stretching the limits of her memory, Charlotte wishes she had allowed her eyes even a moment longer to fully appreciate such a sight.

It had been months since she had last seen Sidney at all, a realization that fills her heart with sorrow. Remembering her silent promise to herself that she would forget him, she bemoans once more how often he inserted himself into her mind. Finally accepting her failure with a sigh, Charlotte faces the plain truth that she had not been even remotely successful in locking her thoughts of Sidney away. When she had talked to Lady Susan about this deficit in her character, Susan had laughed. Her friend had told her it was to be expected, especially since he was the first man she formed any attachment to. That alone would have accounted to his persistence in her thoughts, but Charlotte knew that was not the sole reason. She had liked other boys before, boys from her village, as Mrs. Campion might describe them. But it was only Sidney who stirred this spark within her. As the date of the Regent’s Ball drew near, Charlotte had tried to transfer those feelings to the esteemed personage of Lord Grey. However, she would not know until she saw him again tonight, whether such efforts would bear fruit or not.

That evening, Charlotte and Susan arrive at the ball fashionably late, ensuring all eyes are upon them as they enter. Moving from the comfortable closeness of the carriage to the sprawling interior, Charlotte is even more overwhelmed by Carlton House than she had anticipated. To say it was grander than Lady Susan’s town home was like saying the ocean was grander than a smallish pond. It was such a magnitude of splendor above what she had imagined that she could hardly bear it. Even just the entryway was almost exhausting to look at. Charlotte was grateful to have Susan at her side, so real was her concern that at any moment she might be swallowed up by the house, never to be seen again.

With the effortlessness of one accustomed to such luxurious surroundings, Susan led her friend through many passageways, towards the lilting sounds of music. As though in a daze, Charlotte attempted to take in each room they passed through. As they progressed through the house they passed a fresh assortment of the Regent’s guests, many of whom Charlotte now recognized. Most bowed to her and Susan as they entered. Charlotte enjoyed the attention, even though most of the respect and deference was directed more to Susan than herself. It served only to make her admire Lady Worcester more. Susan was not the Regent’s wife, whom Charlotte had never seen in society; still She was not only tolerated, but celebrated in London. Charlotte could think of no other woman she knew who had pulled off such a feat. She found it hard to imagine any woman but Susan being able to do so. There was an intelligence and strength of character in her friend that was rarely to be seen. Among her other talents, Susan was so self assured, especially in the company of men. Where other women demurred, she defended, even attacked, when it seemed necessary.

Turning the corner, the expanse of the most magnificent ballroom Charlotte has ever beheld opens before her. Something in Charlotte’s stomach tightens as she scans the assembled crowd for Lord Grey. She had spent much of the afternoon fantasizing about this moment. Her imaginings however, failed to ever lead towards a satisfactory conclusion. In fact, many of her day dreams of this moment tended to end rather abruptly when Sidney rushed in to interrupt the dance and carry her away. With a bit of self-indulgent pity Charlotte bemoans how she still did not know what it was that she felt for Lord Grey, nor did she know what she _should_ feel. Could she really overrule her feelings for Sidney so easily? Could one man simply be replaced with another?

Charlotte is not left waiting with her own thoughts for long before Lord Grey makes his way over to her. In her estimation, he is even more handsome than she remembered, with a decided air of fashion. Keeping her promise, she accepts his invitation to dance. As he takes her hand for the first time Charlotte expects to feel something, some rush of excitement, of apprehension even, as she had when she danced with Sidney. Instead she feels something more akin to what she felt when practicing dancing with her brothers at home. There was a comfort, a familiarity, but no spark. Frowning slightly, she does not know what to make of the sensation.

“You don’t seem yourself,” Lord Grey whispers in her ear as the dance ends.

The heat from his breath causes the little hairs on the back of Charlotte’s neck to rise. Something in the intimacy of the act causes a small fluttering within.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed by all of this, to be honest,” Charlotte admits. “Perhaps we could go outside for a moment? I fear I’m in no state to continue dancing.”

“Certainly my dear,” he replies. Taking her elbow, he weaves her through the crowded room to a nearby terrace.

Once outside Lord Grey politely, yet firmly, insists that Charlotte sit a moment on the balcony while he goes to fetch her some refreshment. Taking in the cool of the evening, Charlotte relaxes a bit. She did not realize before what a toll such excitements could take on her. In the cool of the evening, Charlotte is enjoying the relative quiet of the outdoors, when she hears two distinct voices rise from the grounds beneath her. She would have ignored them entirely, if she had not heard the word _Sanditon_ spoken. Her curiosity aroused, Charlotte arranges herself so that she might better hear the conversation.

She was just beginning to puzzle out who might be talking in such derogatory terms about her beloved sea side resort, when Lord Grey returns. Without thinking, Charlotte hushes him, drawing his attention to the dark shadows of the figures below.

“What is so compelling about these two?” Lord Grey asks in a low, deep tone, handing Charlotte a glass of champagne.

“They’re talking about that town I told you of.”

“Sanditon?” Lord Grey replies. “Is that so extraordinary?”

“I should think not, except they have such malice in their opinions of it. I cannot imagine why anyone would hold so charming a place in such contempt,” Charlotte replies.

“Well then, shall I endeavor to discover the identities of our mysterious lurkers?” Lord Grey asks with a devious smile. “They seem to be quite the nefarious pair. With all the entertainment to be found here, why should they be induced to hide in the shadows? What are they endeavoring to conceal, I wonder?”

Though Charlotte is worried about the twinkle in Lord Grey’s eye, she allows him to go down to investigate. Her curiosity would not allow her to forbid him. When he returns an eternity later, she is shocked when Lord Grey reveals the pair to be none other than Mrs. Eliza Campion and Sir Edward Denham.


	7. Hope at Last

Sidney,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health, and that your business in Antigua will soon be concluded. You must indeed be busy, as I have not heard from you now for several weeks. We are, all of us, anxious to see you soon. There are certainly selfish reasons that compel me to write this letter urging your return. For one, I miss your company terribly. For another, I am desirous that you should be able to meet your Godson. My dear Esther and I expect his arrival in late spring. Surely you will be home by then? I cannot imagine what could delay you much longer. I know how loathe you were to return to the West Indies.

I hesitate to write this next part, but I feel as your friend, that I must. I come now to the second reason I am writing to you. I have been in London much lately now that parliament is in session. I hate to leave my wife, but duty to country is of equal importance to duty to family. Besides, there is not much more that I can do until the child arrives. I fear I am losing my point. I wanted to tell you that when I was lately in London I happened upon a most strange scene. I was enjoying some leisure, passing time in one of the art galleries I like to frequent. I exited said establishment, some hundred pounds the poorer, when who did I happen across, but your Eliza.

It took me the space of a moment to realize that she was not alone. She was out walking, and talking in a most familiar manner, with none other than Sir Edward Denham. That villain! I know you cautioned me about being too soft of him. Perhaps you were right. We should have spread news of his traitorous lechery far and wide. You know that I only restrained myself because of my love for my dear Esther. By rights, everyone should have heard of his proclivity to evil, but I blame myself now, that none have save a very few.

I write to caution you dear friend. I do not at all like the overly friendly manner in which they were speaking. I care even less for the guilty looks on their faces when they realized they had been caught. If Eliza is what you want, I suggest you return to London as soon as you are able to secure her. Clearly there are wolves at your door. I could not bear it if that odious man was able to ruin your one chance of happiness as he nearly did mine. I can say nothing further, but rather entreat you, please, hurry home.

Your Friend,

Babington

Sidney sets the letter atop the overflowing pile of correspondence on his desk, uncertain of how its contents should make him feel. If he was being honest with himself, he was a little hopeful. _Hopeful._ _What a strange word,_ he thinks. _Certainly not one I’ve had much experience with._ In this letter, which was meant as a warning, Sidney sees the proverbial way out that he did not possess before. Now he is left wondering if Eliza would be true to her nature and once more cast him aside now that a bigger fish had come along. After spending some weeks with the newly widowed Mrs. Campion in London, had disobliged him of any questions he might have of what sorts of things Eliza now valued. Sidney was successful enough to meet her minimum, but she held money and position in greater esteem than he ever could. He is therefore not surprised that a man with a title might turn her head. Sidney knows he could never give her that which Lord Dunham offered, to finally be a lady. It must be a strong inducement.

“Babbers, you’re a genius,” Sidney exclaims to the empty room.

For once Sidney was glad that he had listened to his oldest friend. Initially, Sidney had strongly advised everyone to publicly disgrace Edward after the unconscionable way he had treated Esther. Babington however, felt such a thing was unnecessary once he had safely extricated his love from that snake’s coils. But what of the havoc Edward’s actions had wreaked on others? Was it unreasonable for Sidney to lay his own present unhappiness at Lord Denham’s feet? Had he not interrupted the ball just at that moment, things would have been very different between him and Charlotte. They might even be married by now, he realizes with a heavy sigh.

In the weeks that Sidney had spent in Antigua, he had tortured himself with memories of the scene from that night over and over. Charlotte was so indescribably lovely that night. All his attention had been focused on her. He had been moments away from promising everything that he was to her, when Edward had stumbled in and wrecked it all. Sidney never thought it would be in his heart to forgive him for this. He had, full of secretly self-righteous indignation wanted to kill Edward in the days following that dreadful night. It was ironic then, that the man who had once so thoroughly trampled Sidney’s desired future, might be the same man to revivify it.

As Sidney reflects on Babington’s news, it is no longer anger that he feels. “If she is so stupid as to want anything to do with a man like that, let her have him,” Sidney remarks aloud before bursting into an uproarious fit of laughter. Anyone else, when learning of their fiancées inconstancy might have been laid low by such news. Not Sidney. He laughs at the absurdity that he might actually have to thank Edward Denham for saving him many years of heartache by taking the clearly fickle Eliza Campion off his hands.

Sidney’s laughter reverberates throughout the house, eventually agitating Georgiana enough that she feels compelled to see what on God’s earth was wrong with the man now.

“Are you feeling alright?” Georgiana asks in her usual peevish way as she enters Sidney’s study unannounced, as was her custom.

Sidney realizes as he stands there laughing, struggling for breath, that he admires how wholly herself Georgiana was. She found him annoying, and took no pains to hide it. She never dissembled, never sought to flatter him, though a little cooperation might have made things go smoother for her. No, she was every inch her father’s daughter. Sidney realizes as he begins to quiet himself down that he admires her for it.

Looking at the fierce eyes of the woman before him, Sidney thinks how never really took the time to appreciate Georgiana as a person before they came to Antigua together. He had given her sex so little credit, after the abysmal state Eliza had left him in, that he was in no humor to give any concessions to the fairer sex. Women were treacherous at worst, inconstant and ill-defined at best. Their opinions, their feelings, and other such unreliable natural tendencies were certainly not to be indulged. But Georgiana was neither the foolish woman nor spoilt child he had once thought her to be. He decides to be as forthright with her as she tended to be with him.

“I’ve just had the most humorous letter from Lord Babington,” Sidney finally manages to say, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye.

The look Georgiana fixes him with at this revelation can only be interpreted as an indication of equal parts shock and annoyance.

“You mean to tell me that that bland, beige man has something humorous to say?”

“Careful now, Georgiana,” Sidney says with a twinkle in his eye. “That is my oldest friend we are speaking of. And yes. The letter is hysterical. Come, sit. I shall read it to you.”

Rolling her eyes, Georgiana grudgingly takes a seat on a nearby chaise. Sidney watches her for her reaction as he reads each line. He sees her expression change from annoyance to astonishment back to annoyance.

“I cannot for the life of me understand why any of these women find that oaf even remotely attractive,” Georgiana blurts out when the reading has ended. “First Esther, Clara, and now Eliza? The man has the depth of a tea saucer. No doubt there was even a time when you would have been thrilled if I had fallen victim to his feeble attempts at courtship. Admit it. I would have been someone else’s problem then.”

“I do admit it. Shamefully,” Sidney replies. “I was an arrogant, selfish man then. I cared little for anyone, especially not you whose care I had felt burdened with.” He stops to clear this throat. “Truth is, I cared even less for myself than I did for others.”

Watching Georgiana, he sees her expression change once more. It was a look he found easy to recognize now. It was one she tended to give him more often than not these days. She felt sorry for him, and was trying to temper her response for his sake.

“Do you really think that milquetoast fumbler could possibly seduce Eliza away from you?” she asks.

“Honestly. I hope that he can.”

“Well, then, those two useless snobs deserve each other.”


	8. Return to Sanditon

Dear Mary,

You will be happy to hear that I will be traveling to Sanditon soon. Myself and my dear friend Lady Susan are already making the necessary preparations to spend what we hope will be some weeks there. We are both of us, quite ready for a change of scenery. I write to warn you that Lady Susan’s esteemed companion will be joining us, at least for the beginning of our stay. He is desirous to meet your husband in particular, and to discuss Mr. Parker’s plans for the redevelopment of Sanditon. Lady Susan thought we should surprise you with this news, but I felt it was appropriate to give you more notice. I know how much Mr. Parker would hate to be caught unprepared for such a visit. I am sure we are all anxious to see Sanditon presented in the very best of lights.

However, I caution you not to make too much fuss, as I think that would have the opposite of the intended effect. Lady Susan’s companion is a good deal less intimidating as his status would make him seem. He enjoys the company of the kind of people you might not expect, and shares your husband’s particular passion for architecture. He quite admires people who seek to bring beauty to the world through that particular art form. It was therefore his idea that we should journey to Sanditon to see the improvements being made there. Perhaps it was my descriptions of the place and its people that caught his fancy, and led him to insist I introduce him to everyone. I do not know exactly when we shall arrive in town, but I expect it will not be long after this letter arrives. Please do not make yourself too apprehensive over this news. I, for one, am eagerly anticipating my return to your lovely town and seeing all my dear friends again.

Your Friend,

Charlotte

As the regent’s carriage bumps along the road, Charlotte hopes that her letter has reached Mary in time. She was surprisingly anxious that the regent see Sanditon as she did. That was why she knew she had to forewarn Mr. Parker, if only to keep him from stumbling over himself out of sheer nervousness. The eldest Mr. Parker could be charming and persuasive when highlighting the charms of his beloved town. Charlotte can only hope that after reading her letter Mary would be able to temper Tom’s zeal as she often did. That, she told herself, was why she had written. However, if Charlotte was to examine her own motives, she would have to admit to the selfishness at their core. Some part of her still held onto the hope that the patronage of the prince regent might somehow save both the town and Mr. Parker from their financial troubles. If Tom and his family were free from the specter of total ruin, then perhaps maybe Sidney…

 _No,_ Charlotte reprimands herself. There was no use for such silly thoughts. The man that she had fallen in love with did not exist anymore. At best he was no longer free to give her his affection, at worst he was never what she thought him to be in the first place. In the months since she had left Sanditon she had vacillated wildly in her interpretation of the events that had taken place last summer. Despite her generally forgiving nature, and despite the passage of time, she still occasionally felt overwhelmed with anger at the callous way Sidney had thrown her over.

Charlotte is beginning to get herself worked up into a fury of righteous indignation when she looks up to see Lady Susan examining her with a concerned look. With a frown, she realizes that her face must once more be revealing more than she intended.

“Shouldn’t be long now,” Charlotte says, perking up in an attempt to distract Susan’s attention. “I think we’re not far from Denham Park, unless I am mistaken.”

“And what sort of woman is the lady of the house? I don’t believe I’ve met her,” the regent asks in his pleasant, amiable way.

Charlotte takes a moment to think of what her answer should be. Somehow in describing the denizens of Sanditon, she had neglected to give an account of one of its most illustrious and confounding inhabitants. Charlotte is straining to come up with the right words to say, when an image of Arthur Denham manhandling Lady Denham’s pineapple flickers to the surface. In spite of herself, Charlotte begins to burst out laughing.

“What? What is it?” the regent asks.

“I’m sorry,” Charlotte says, stifling her laughter and straightening her face. “It’s just that I was suddenly reminded of a rather ludicrous incident that occurred at a luncheon party there. I really shouldn’t laugh at it though.”

The prince regent gives her a look, as if begging her to continue.

“Well, you know how I told you of my friend, Georgiana,” Charlotte begins haltingly.

“The heiress? From Antigua wasn’t she?”

“Yes. Her. Well, she was in Sanditon and Lady Denham wanted to impress her or some such matter and decided to host a luncheon in her honor.” Charlotte’s smile widens as she recounts the course of events. “Lady Denham decided to have a pineapple sent from London so that she might serve it to us. Well, the lunch was a disaster for numerous reasons. Georgiana was clearly unhappy to be the focus of Lady Denham’s interest, and for her part, Lady Denham overstepped herself in some of the things she said. Somehow Mister Parker’s younger brother Arthur got it into his head that he might deflect some of the attention from Miss. Lambe by serving the pineapple. He began cutting into it only to discover it was quite rotten.”

“Not surprising,” interjects Lady Susan with a wry smile. “I cannot tell you how many parties I have been to where there was a dubious looking pineapple in some state of obvious decay. I think the company might have perished were we to attempt to eat such sad specimens as I have often seen.”

“Really, my dear?” asks the regent, incredulous. “I never noticed any such thing.”

“Well, I shouldn’t expect you to, my darling. But many people take great pains creating the appearance that they can afford the rare fruit.”

“I shouldn’t think a pineapple would be so rare for someone from Antigua,” replies the regent. “What was Lady Denham thinking?”

“I think she meant it as a compliment,” Charlotte offers, “or maybe she thought it might impress Georgiana. At luncheon that day Lady Denham also appeared to be trying to set up her nephew as a sort of suitor for Miss Lambe. He wasn’t at all successful though.”

“Yes, I imagine a fortune like Miss Lambe’s attracts all manner of fumblers,” replies the regent with a hearty laugh. “Poor thing. Well, I’m sorry I won’t get to meet her. Did not you say she had returned to Antigua?”

“Yes.” Charlotte answers succinctly, hoping that the prince will make no further inquiries that might lead to more discussion of the matter. She hardly trusts herself anymore to say Sidney’s name aloud, and so hopes that the regent will not press her further about Miss Lambe’s present situation. Instead Charlotte steers the conversation back towards a discussion of Lady Denham.

The three spend the rest of the journey laughing and talking as amiably as old friends. When at last the carriage arrives at their rented lodgings, the regent is quite excited to explore the town and meet its inhabitants. Were it not for Lady Susan’s insistence that they rest and refresh themselves first, Charlotte was certain they would have set out at once.

Charlotte retires to her room, which was small but no less elegant than her chambers in London. Still, she marvels how it was larger than the space she shared with her sisters back home. Memories of her home prompt Charlotte to write a brief letter to her family, telling them of her journey and safe arrival. Upon the conclusion of her writing, she sees that there is still some time before the appointed hour when she and her friends were to embark on their tour of the town. Deciding that she would rather not sit idly after having sat so long in the carriage, Charlotte decides to venture down to the post master’s office herself to mail her letter.

She is busy chatting away with the post master when the ring of the door’s bell alerts her to the passage of time. Charlotte turns to hurry back to the stylish town house the regent had procured for them, nearly running right into the figure of a tall, handsome man in the process.

“Mister Stringer!” Charlotte exclaims, somewhat taken aback. Had he always had such deep dimples? Such intense, thoughtful eyes?

“Miss Heywood,” he replies, bowing slightly as his smile widens.

Something lurches in Charlotte’s stomach as temperature of the room seems to steadily rise.

“I did not expect to ever see you again,” he continues. “I’m delighted you’ve returned to town.”

“It’s good be back, and to see you Mister Stringer,” she replies, meaning her words perhaps more than she realizes. “I am visiting with friends of mine. I’m late to meet them in fact.”

“Don’t let me keep you,” he responds, stepping aside so that she might pass. “I hope we shall happen to see each other again soon.”

Charlotte realizes that she doesn’t want to part yet. “You might walk with me, if you have the time,” she suggests.

“I’d like that very much,” Stringer replies with a twinkle in his eye that Charlotte cannot fail to notice.

As they walk together, Charlotte wonders if she had ever felt before the kind of unconscious pull towards the man that she now did. She is growing ever more curious about this new sensation as the sight of Lady Susan standing in front of their temporary residence comes into view.

“Mr. Stringer, isn’t it?” asks Lady Susan, as she offers her hand. “I remember you of course from your impressive performance at the regatta. Your victory there was very much deserved. I hope that you will have many more such triumphs in your future.” Susan shoots a pointed look in Charlotte’s direction. “How fortunate that you ran into each other. We were just about to set off towards the beach. Would you care to join us?”

“Yes, please do.” Charlotte adds, her voice a more desperate, higher pitch than she would have liked.

“Thank you. I wish I could. Only, I best be getting back to the works. Mr. Tom Parker has said he plans to stop by today to see how we all are progressing. If you’ll excuse me ladies, I really should get down there straight away.”

“Hold there.” The booming voice of the regent echoes from the entryway. Stepping into the sunlight, the rich brocade of his vest glinting, he continues. “Why don’t we all walk that way together? One can see the ocean anywhere, but it is not often that you get to see men working to put a building ravaged by fire to rights. Would not you agree?”

James Stringer raises his eyebrows slightly at Charlotte as if asking her opinion of this course of action. For her part, Charlotte merely shrugs.

“I should be much obliged if you could take us there young man,” the regent commands with a friendly smile.

“It’d be my honor then, sir.”

The matter settled, the party head towards the apartments together, Stringer and Charlotte some paces ahead.

“Who is that man?” Stringer leans down to whisper. “He seems to have a natural sort of ease and confidence about himself that I’ve not seen before. I have a feeling that if he were to order me to do anything I would do so willingly. Is not that strange?”

Charlotte laughs. Taking Mr. Stringers arm, she leans in close to give her answer in a hushed tone. His eyes open wide in surprise as they continue down the lane, the de facto head of the British Empire mere paces behind them.


	9. An Evening at Lady Denham's

Dear Charlotte,

I trust this letter finds you well. London is especially dreary now that you have left us. I feel your absence most acutely. Indeed, I can hardly bear to go out anymore, knowing that I will not have the pleasure of your companionship. Please tell me that you will be returning to us soon. Your conversation is that piece missing from my life that I did not even know I had lost. Shall I be forced to come out to Sanditon and collect you myself? Perhaps I should…

Ever your servant,

Edmund Grey

“Charlotte dear?” The voice of Lady Susan floats down the hallway as Charlotte neatly folds and tucks the note beneath the pile of books beside her on the library table. “Ah, there you are,” Susan continues as she enters the room. “You really ought to start getting ready, you know. Lady Denham is expecting us for her dinner party.”

“Yes, you’re right of course,” Charlotte replies, rising.

“Before you go up, my dear, I feel there is something I should warn you of.”

Charlotte, trying not to act too surprised, simply utters, “Oh?”

Lady Susan settles into the large ornate chair opposite, gesturing for Charlotte to sit back down.

“I’ve noticed you seem to,” she hesitates. “How shall I put this? Well, I’ve noticed you seem to be attracting the attention of a certain young man we know.”

Charlotte remains silent, not sure to which gentleman her friend was currently referring. Since her heartbreak had somewhat healed Charlotte found herself thinking of more than one man in that way. She had been quite surprised, for example by the instant sort of alchemical pull that had quite unexpectedly manifested itself whenever she was now in the presence of Mister Stringer. Then there was the issue of Lord Grey and his letter, which Susan must have seen arrive. To whom exactly was Susan referring?

“I warn you only to be on your guard. You know I will do what I can to encourage your exploration; you can rely on me in this, and on my discretion. But you must exercise every precaution that things do not get out of hand. Some unconventional courtship may be exciting, but do not give to him all that you are, if you take my meaning. If you were to fall pregnant, which often happens with shocking ease, and occasionally on the first coupling, you would find yourself in a situation that even I would have trouble rescuing you from. Were he a gentleman, you could simply marry, and fudge the date of conception. But marrying someone who is neither of your birth nor situation would have serious ramifications for you and your family.”

Charlotte, taken aback by Susan’s frankness is momentarily at a loss for words. Finally she manages to blurt out, “Mister Stringer?” She had forgotten how astonishingly perceptive her friend could be.

“Who else did you think I meant? I know he has admired you for some time. Since last summer, at the very least. Now that I’ve seen a little of you together, down at the works this morning for instance, I am beginning to suspect that the attraction might be mutual. Am I mistaken?”

“Well,” Charlotte begins, not sure what defense she should mount. If she were being truthful, thoughts of Mister Stringer in various states of undress had more than once invaded the tranquility of her mind. “No,” she finally concedes. “You are not misapprehending anything. I do feel some sort of unconscious pull to Mister Stringer that I had not noticed before. There is something so rugged and masculine about him.”

“As though you wish he might throw you over his shoulder and carry you off?” Susan asks, her eyes sparkling mischievously in the fleeting afternoon light.

The two women smile at each other for a long while until eventually the laughter will be contained no more.

Wiping away tears, Charlotte admits to the truth of Susan’s words. “What do you suggest I do?”

“There is nothing to be done at present, except get dressed for this evening. I’ll send Louisa up in a minute to help you. As for the rest, leave it to me.” With a conspiratorial smile, Susan excuses herself.

As Charlotte watches her friend leave, her pulse quickens. What exactly does Susan have in mind, she wonders. What was all that Susan was saying about encouraging exploration? Exploration of what exactly? Charlotte is left to puzzle that out for herself when the chiming of the clock on the mantle reminds her of the lateness of the hour. They were expected at Lady Denham’s, and Charlotte knew better than to court the possibility of a tardy arrival.

That evening, after a rather fine dinner, Charlotte finds herself in Lady Denham’s drawing room wondering if the interminable evening will ever end. The dinner had been pleasant enough, with enjoyable though not too stimulating conversation. However, now that the meal was finished, Charlotte finds herself quite lonely in the crowd of people. Lady Susan and her companion were constantly engaged with either Tom and Mary or Lady Denham, leaving Charlotte to manage what little exchanges she could with the other guests.

Looking around the room at the assembled company, Charlotte now sees what Lady Susan had meant earlier about the insurmountable difference between herself and Mister Stringer. His lack of invitation to tonight’s party was proof. It was not that Lady Denham had snubbed her friend, it was that Stringer was so far beneath her notice that it would have never occurred to her to invite such a person. Moreover, it probably would have shocked Lady Denham’s guests as much as inviting one of her footmen or house maids to sit and dine would.

Rising to take a turn about the room, Charlotte finds herself wishing that Lord Grey were here. At least then she would have someone to converse with. He had threatened to journey to Sanditon, pity then that he had not been able to come sooner. As her eyes meet Mary’s however, she wonders whether she should not be a little relieved he had not yet come. There had been a rather distressing amount of gossip in London about her and Lord Grey’s association. There were some that went so far as to claim a proposal would soon occur, though Charlotte herself had never apprehended any such intentions when she was with Edmund. She had become so used to thinking of him as her friend and confidant, that any romantic feelings seemed quite absurd. Still, better he were here, she thinks. Anything was better than this increasingly dull solitude. Lost in her thoughts, Charlotte does not notice the regent coming along side her.

“So refreshing, isn’t it,” he remarks, as he matches her stride. “I often tire sitting for too long. A quick sojourn around the place is often all I need to refresh myself.”

“Agreed,” Charlotte replies, smiling in what she hopes is a serene manner.

“I must say I am quite grateful to you Miss Heywood.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Quite grateful.” His voice lowers conspiratorially. “I just adore this little town and its funny little inhabitants. I can see why you fell in love with it yourself. You know I particularly like Mr. Parker. I admire how through sheer force of will he is attempting to bring forth order and beauty in what otherwise might have remained a sleepy little village. It shows he is a man of vision. As a man of vision myself, I commend him for it. Indeed, I have half a mind to invest in some building projects here myself. I’ve been quite impressed by that Young Stringer fellow as well. My dear Susan seems to think he shows promise. Do not you agree?”

“I do sir. He was once offered a situation in London. Apprentice to an architect, I believe.”

“Was he? I wonder what made him turn it down. Well, never mind. Perhaps Lord Grey would take him on. He is my favored architect at the moment, but of course you knew that.”

Charlotte looks briefly at the regent, trying to mask her astonishment. It had never occurred to her to ask Lord Grey his profession. She assumed he was simply a gentleman, and no more. As the regent continues, Charlotte begins to wonder if this was what Lady Susan meant when she said that she would take care of it. Could she really undertake the herculean task of raising Mister Stringer’s station just so that he might be more suitable a match?

“Perhaps I’ll write to Grey, tell him to come down here a while. Tell me what he thinks of the place. I see promise in it, surely I do,” the regent adds animatedly.

“I am so happy to hear it,” Charlotte replies. “I do miss Lord Grey’s company.” The second the words escaped her lips, Charlotte wishes she had never uttered them.

“Do you, my dear?” His eyebrows rise. “Very well then! I shall tell Lord Grey he must come here straight away and rescue both you and this town. What say you?”

Too embarrassed to speak, Charlotte simply nods, wishing it were possible to blend in somehow with the wallpaper and simply disappear.


	10. Tea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are not prepared to see Stringer and Charlotte together, be warned

Mr. Stringer,

I write in hopes that you would favor me with the pleasure of your company this afternoon at tea. My dear friend has unfortunately been called back to London on short notice, but before he left he did entreat me to speak with you. I know that you are greatly engaged in your work at present, but if you can manage to tear yourself away, please arrive promptly at three this afternoon. I shall be expecting you if I do not hear back.

Sincerely,

Lady Susan Worcester

“What was that note that arrived for you earlier? Nothing serious I trust.” Mr. Tom Parker claps his foreman on the back, shocking James Stringer from his troubled thoughts.

Realizing he had been caught lost in his own tangled mind, James snaps out of it. “Oh yes. Nothing to worry about Mr. Parker. It was just an invitation to take tea at Lady Worcester’s,” he begins.

“Well, that is quite the honor. And no wonder, you’ve certainly impressed all the right people lately. When are you to go?”

“At three.”

“What today?” Tom replies, the alarm quite evident on his face. Removing his watch from the pocket of his golden waistcoat, he continues. “That’s in less than an hour. What are you doing standing around here? You should already _be_ ready.”

“I hadn’t quite decided I would attend. I mean, it’s not the most convenient time. There is too much that needs to be done today, and the men’s work will suffer if I am not here to guide them.”

“Poppycock!”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Nothing against you Stringer, of course. But I think I am more than capable of rallying the troops in your stead. You must of course go. It would be most imprudent, impudent even to refuse such an invitation. Besides, what motive would she have other than to praise your talents?”

James shrugs, knowing that Tom had a point. He shouldn’t fear Lady Worcester. He didn’t fear Lady Worcester. No, it was a different woman entirely whom he did not know if he possessed the strength to be near. Undoubtedly, _she_ would be in attendance at tea this afternoon. Miss Charlotte Heywood had always been above him, though she had never treated him as someone beneath her notice, as other ladies often did. However, now that she was used to the company of the prince regent, what little hope he once clung to seemed to slip evermore through his fingers. Were he being truthful to himself, it was Charlotte and the very real torment he often felt in her presence, that made him want to decline the invitation.

“No. I will not let you sabotage yourself, Stringer. I insist you leave at once. First, go change into more suitable clothes.” Tom pauses briefly, as James begins once more to object. “If you refuse I shall fire you on the spot for insubordination.” Tom breaks into one of his wide, genial grins. Say what you would of Mr. Parker, James thinks, well aware of the many faults that one could accuse him of, but his cheerful optimism was infectious. Perhaps tea with Lady Worcester would not be so bad after all. If he were very lucky, Charlotte might not even be there.

With Tom’s encouragement, James makes his way through the dust and noise of the nearly completed renovation project. Walking down the hall of what would soon be Sanditon’s grandest apartments, he pauses briefly before the door of the room which he had vowed to never enter. Peering inside, he imagines he can still see the mark left by his father’s charred body on the floor. What would his father think of his going to tea at the rented house of the prince regent’s paramour?

No sense dwelling on the past, James reminds himself, as he turns on his heel. Trying all the while to calm the unrest in his spirit, he walks the short distance to his home, dresses, and begins the long, slow walk towards the townhome where the ladies were staying.

Before he has time to reconsider the path fate had put him on, he finds himself being led down a richly furnished hallway into a parlor larger than his entire house. He hopes that his face can conceal the mix of elation and dread he feels at seeing Miss Heywood sitting so beautifully composed by the window overlooking the garden.

“Ah, Mister Stringer. There you are. So good of you to join us. I know we must be terribly inconvenient,” Lady Worcester begins.

Distracted by the sight of Charlottes smile, James can hardly keep track of Lady Susan’s words.

“Please, sit,” she instructs, gesturing to a chair situated rather near Miss Heywood’s.

“Of course, m’lady,” he stammers, as he moves towards his seat.

“Now then, shall I share my purpose in calling you here?”

“Presently,” Charlotte suggests. “I would first like to hear about the progress being made on Mr. Parker’s apartments. Will they be ready in time for the summer, do you think?”

“Aye, it seems that they will be, Miss,” James replies rather shyly.

“And what shall you do when that project has reached its conclusion?”

“Well, ma’am,” he begins.

“I hope you do not find me rude in asking so directly. It is only that I know you are a man of talent, and whose skill has not yet been properly recognized nor sufficiently challenged. My friend is sending an architect, more precisely, his favorite architect Lord Grey, to come down and look at the town and see if it indeed has the potential that Mr. Parker seems so sure of. He has asked specifically that _you_ work with Lord Grey when he arrives. If Lord Grey were to see that same competence and imagination in you that Charlotte, the Regent, and myself see, well...”

James shifts uncomfortably in his chair. Unsure how to act with both ladies staring at him so intently, he is grateful to the butler who soon arrives with a rather more luscious spread than he had expected, for drawing away their attention.

After each is served, Lady Susan picks up the conversation once more. “As someone in the profession, I have no doubt you know Lord Grey by his reputation. I tell you of his coming so that do not make yourself uneasy about it. It is important that you know our intention to introduce you to him as a potential apprentice, so that you might be prepared.”

“Yes,” Charlotte insists. “Do not let thoughts of Lord Grey make you unsettled. I spent a great deal of time in his company and found him most agreeable. Most agreeable indeed.”

Charlotte’s enthusiasm for Lord Grey has the opposite of its intended effect. James had noticed that she seemed to smile a little too much whenever Lord Grey’s name was mentioned. It was bad enough to contend, however feebly with Sidney Parker, but he cannot imagine he will have any success against a peer of the realm.

“Did you?” James asks, trying to conceal the burgeoning jealousy moving within his spirit.

He is struggling to find the right words to say next when a maid silently makes her presence known.

“Excuse me, for a moment wont you,” Lady Susan says, rising.

Mister Stringer and Miss Heywood sit in an uncomfortable silence for some moments, sipping their tea waiting for Lady Susan’s return. At length a butler arrives with a note on a silver tray, which he presents to Charlotte.

“Lady Susan has been obliged to step out for what may be a considerable while. Some pressing, personal manner, she does not say exactly. Only, she does entreat me to make it clear that you are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”

At once excited and terrified by the prospect of spending time alone with Miss Heywood, James wonders if he should seize this opportunity to take his leave.

Intimating his intentions, Charlotte continues. “Please, don’t go yet,” she says, smiling in a way that he knows will not allow him to refuse her. “Earlier when we were talking Lady Susan mentioned showing you the library here. I believe she found a rather good selection of architectural folios that might be of interest to you. Looking over them may help make a good impression.”

“Right. Of course you’re right, as always Miss Haywood.”

“Charlotte, please.”

“Alright.” His smile beams at her. Certain he now looks like a complete idiot, he manages to bring himself to call her by her Christian name. “Charlotte.”

As she walks past for him to follow, he wonders how much of this masochistic torture he will be able to bear, knowing full well that she could never be his. In the library, while Charlotte begins pulling books out, his eyes remain fixed only on her. Setting a book on a nearby table she opens it, and draws his attention to the fine engraving within, before stepping back so he might also admire it. Setting his hand on either side of the book, he leans over the table, peering down to look it over. While he stands there, transfixed by the fine details of the impressive structure, he becomes hyper-aware of how near she was standing.

“See this, here,” he says, to break the tension building inside his own mind. He barely registers what he is saying to her about the use of acanthus leaves in the designs of the colonnade, when he feels her hand come to rest on his.

For what seems to be an eternity, he stares at the small, fine fingers of her hand as they rest against his. Certain she must have made to move in error, he dare not move or else risk drawing attention to the mistake she clearly had made. For her part, Charlotte never removes her hand. His heart hammering, he moves his eyes up the length of her arm, past her delicate cap sleeve, to the smooth white expanse of her bosom, which rose and fell in a hypnotizing manner. At last he brings himself to look into her eyes, which seem to be expecting something from him. Some unknown force encourages him bold. He barely feels in possession of his senses in that moment as he turns to kiss her.

When she does not pull away, when the slap he half-expected never lands, James grows bolder. Reaching out, he pulls her towards him until their bodies are pressed together. Snaking his hand behind her neck, he draws her ever nearer, kissing her feverishly, passionately, like a man possessed, while she seems to match his enthusiasm step for step. As they stand there entwined, he feels himself begin to swell.

Knowing that she must feel the concrete manifestation of his longing pressing against her, he becomes embarrassed, and expects her to recoil. Instead, the hand that Charlotte had wrapped around his waist begins to trail its way around his side, down the front of his abdomen, reaching ever lower, until he feels her fingers conform around the outline of his hardened manhood. A moan escapes his lips as she begins an excruciatingly slow stroke down its considerable length. He pulls back to look at her, full of questioning, uncertain how to assimilate this new information.

Wordlessly, she pulls him back towards her lips. It is in that moment that James decides he must be in a dream. Surrendering himself to sensation, he decides not to fight the natural course of such things, because obviously this was not reality. This was one of his dreams, though admittedly, it was superior to any of his previous nocturnal fantasies. Terrified that at any moment he will awaken, he decides to enjoy this invention of his imagination, however briefly it may last. This last obstacle hurdled, he steels his resolve and redoubles his efforts. Kissing her more and more ardently, he’s amazed at how her body responds to his. It was everything he had ever hoped for and more. Praying that he will never awaken from this slumber, he cherishes each caress, each touch of lip and tongue.

As they stand there, reveling in a sort of mutual exploration, certain stories that he had often heard down in the tavern come to mind. It was a common enough tale, fine ladies seeking pleasure from their servants, told in seemingly endless variations. If that was all he was to her, in this moment at least, James finds he does not care. Instead, he desires above all else to become the hero of such tales. Straining his memory, he seeks to remember what kinds of attentions these privileged women might be accustomed to. Knowing that certain acts were to be reserved for marriage, he remembers one such maneuver that, at least in the stories he had heard, ladies seemed to very much enjoy. Wanting nothing more than to bring great effusions of pleasure to Miss Heywood, James decides upon a course of action.

Scooping her into his arms, he carries Miss Heywood across the room, never allowing her lips to part from his, until he settles her on a plush chaise in a darkened corner of the library. Kneeling at her feet, he looks up at her, silently requesting permission to proceed. The look of longing that plays across her features cannot be misinterpreted, and so he plunges forward. Gathering up her skirts inch by slothful inch, he trails fingers and lips along the length of her increasingly exposed flesh. Using her small utterances and moans as his guide, he continues his expedition into hitherto uncharted realms.

Parting her legs, Charlotte at last reveals to him that sacred mound. With all the reverence such a sight was due, he suddenly apprehends a deep feeling of unworthiness. What possible good could his life amount to, that would ever make him deserving of such a prize? Charlotte, sensing perhaps his hesitation, grabs hold of the golden-brown curls that crowned his head, and pulling him ever closer seems to insist upon his completing the task set before him. Emboldened by the firmness of her direction, James resolves to perform to the best of his abilities. Cursing himself that he had not sought more edification on the finer points of pleasuring ladies, he runs his tongue along the length of her slit. Unsure what levels of sensation women might derive from such attentions, it is not until he feels Charlotte’s entire being grow suddenly rigid, that he apprehends some locus of bliss nested there. Experimenting, with all the thoroughness of a man of science, he varies his pace, pressure and rhythm until at last he finds a combination which seems to derive maximal effect. Therefore, it is not long before his attentions lead to their natural conclusion.

With dreamy, unfocused eyes, Charlotte looks up at James as he settles back on his heels, well pleased with himself.


	11. Decisions, Decisions

Dear Georgiana,

I cannot believe how long it has been since last we met. I hope that you are well, and that things in Antigua are not entirely terrible for you, as they seemed to be in your last letter. Life in Sanditon is going as well as you might imagine, but I do wish desperately that you could return. I am in such a muddle about so many things; I should dearly love your advice. You at least have some experience with love, which might help alleviate my present concerns. I am unfortunately all too aware of my naivety when it comes to the subject. It is a source of much conflict at present. I hardly know where to begin. Before you went away, no, I must start farther back. Before you arrived in Sanditon, before I ever met either you or your guardian, life was so straightforward. With Otis you showed me how sweet love could be, with _you know who,_ I learned of its bitterness. Now, I hardly know what the truth of love is. I find myself at a crossroads, tormented by my insufficient education.

Love is not at all what I once thought it was. At present, this internal conflict is made manifest by two gentlemen who I am very often in the company of. They both inspire such odd feelings within me. With one there is this magnetic pull, as I am certain you experienced when you were with Otis. With the other, there is an entirely different sort of attraction. I do not know what I should feel toward either man. I do not even know if I should trust to my own feelings, as they have led me horribly astray before.

Were you to stand the two men beside each other, I think the choice between them would be clear as crystal. One is all promise, the other all substance. I will not speak much of the former; I am embarrassed even to write the words of what has passed between us. The latter, however, is someone who you do not know. Perhaps if I tell you more of him, you will scold me for my foolishness, and tell me that he is the more sensible choice to pin my hopes of future happiness on. His name is Lord Edmund Grey, and you would at once apprehend by his manners and appearance that he is someone of great bearing and consequence. More than that, he is perhaps the most charming, well-formed, and thoughtful man I have ever encountered. We have conversations the likes of which you cannot imagine. They freely range from topic to topic, without any awkwardness or consternation. We have the most agreeable time whenever we are together. Everything would be perfect, but for that fact that I feel no heat, no passion towards him. With the other man, who I will not name, there is nothing but passion. We have tried to converse, as I have with Lord Grey, but we seem incapable of maintaining serious discussions.

Lord Grey has been in Sanditon now for over a week, surveying the town on the commission of the regent. He has taken on Mr. Stringer, who consequentially is as handsome as ever, as apprentice. Lord Grey is an architect you see, and His Highness has engaged him to undertake a great building project here. Lady Denham is quite beside herself, as she now stands to benefit greatly from her investment in the place. I have become a sort of celebrity in her estimation for having brought such illustrious attentions, but I cannot see how it is my doing, At any rate, Lady Denham lately invited myself, Lady Susan and Lord Grey to tea as a mark of her esteem, I think. It was a much more successful affair than the parties you may have remembered there. I know you never thought highly of her, and with good reason, but I think Lady Denham has greatly changed for the better now that she no longer has her nefarious nephew around her.

Sorry, I feel I shall lose my point. After the tea, while Lady Susan and Lord Grey were walking in the garden, Lady Denham pulled me aside and interrogated me quite thoroughly about what she said was the relationship she could see developing between myself and Lord Grey. I was a bit shocked by this, as I only ever felt a sort of brotherly affection from him. She quite brazenly intimated that I was not doing enough to secure his attention. Maybe she is right, and he is the sort of personage I should endeavor to attach myself to. Do you think you could ever marry someone you did not love passionately? He is wealthy, while the other man I speak of is not. Would it be wrong to choose one man over another solely because of their difference in situation? My spirit feels torn between my body and my mind. How I wish you were here to advise me! I cannot bear to be without your friendship and council at a time like this. Please write soon and tell me what I should do.

Your Friend,

Charlotte

Having finished her letter, Charlotte hands it to Lady Susan’s butler on her way out the door. Desperately seeking to be free from the confines of four walls, she wanders for a time, not sure where her feet will take her. It is therefore a surprise when she happens across Lord Grey and Mr. Stringer, clearly engaged in a serious discussion, standing before a long row of market stalls. Each man bows to her as she approaches. A small fluttering in the pit of her stomach makes her avoid James’ eyes.

“Lord Grey. Mr. Stringer,” she says, with a small curtsey. “I can see you are working. I shall not distract you from your task.”

“There is no distraction,” Lord Grey replies with a friendly chuckle.

“Be that as it may, I am endeavoring to take a long walk. And, before you ask, you are most certainly not invited to join me. I shall not be blamed for delaying important affairs.”

Stringer looks for a moment as if he were about to say something, when Lord Grey interjects. “Well, we shall not delay your business either,” he adds, punctuating his remark with a wink.

“Very well then.” Charlotte’s smile betrays her amusement at such an exchange. “I shall leave you gentlemen to it.”

“G’day Miss Heywood,” James says. His eyes briefly meet Charlotte’s, giving her the impression that some unasked question lay just beneath the surface.

“Indeed. Good day,” echoes Lord Grey as Charlotte turns to leave.

A few stalls down, she pauses briefly to look back at the gentlemen whose company she had just left. She notes with a deep feeling of satisfaction that neither of them had taken their eyes off her. Cursing Georgiana’s absence once more, Charlotte continues down the lane until at last she reaches the shore. It is not until she is hit by the full force of the sea air that she realizes the change she noticed in Lord Grey. There was a quiet intensity radiating off of him this afternoon that she had not felt before. Perhaps his attractions were not forever consigned to the realm of the ethereal. Could it be that Lord Grey was in fact capable of eliciting the same feelings in her that others had? After all, she had not felt for Stringer that immediate attraction. She had hardly noticed him that first summer. It was only recently that she found it difficult to think of little else apart from the interminable hours between their private encounters.

A startling new image flashes across the upper strata of her consciousness. Thoughts and worries about the suitability of each man fade into the background as a new thought emerges. What if somehow Lord Grey could be included in her and James’s private diversions? What might it feel like to have the attentions of two men at once? Would the pleasures be doubled? She begins to ache as images of the two men together threaten to overwhelm her. Her head bursting with new possibilities, Charlotte makes her way back to Lady Susan’s house, seeking the privacy of her chambers to relieve the tension building within.

Normally, feelings of great relief followed Charlotte’s solitary pursuits. However, today she finishes her activities more confused and distraught than ever. Feeling very much out of her depth, Charlotte hurriedly dresses for dinner, hoping to catch Lady Susan alone before any company arrives. She is greatly relieved when she arrives downstairs to discover that she and Lady Susan will be dining alone this evening.

“You seemed not quite yourself after returning from your walk,” Lady Susan begins as the final course is cleared away. “I felt it best to have a quiet evening to ourselves for once. You impress me more and more as someone much distressed by their thoughts. It is no small wonder, what with the new complication of Lord Grey and his growing regard for you. He’s quite taken with you. I suspect you are beginning to realize that,” Lady Susan continues.

“I suppose I am,” Charlotte admits. “But I do not know what it is that I should feel for him. Lady Denham told me I should endeavor to secure him as an eligible match. I am not certain that I could even think of marrying someone who could not elicit the sorts of feelings in me that seem to be necessary in such a partnership.”

“I see,” Lady Susan nods. “I was afraid of this. It is only natural I suppose, that the experiences you have had with Mr. Stringer have confused you. You must not let those, no matter how remarkable, lead you to conflate physical compatibility, or even love, with marriageability.”

Lady Susan stands and begins uncharacteristically pacing the room.

“I know your attachment to Mr. Stringer must be growing. As I said, it is only natural after the kinds of encounters you two have doubtlessly shared. But I caution you neither to hold out hope, nor to engage yourself to him. His prospects may be on the rise, but it is very likely that you will have to suffer through an exceedingly long engagement. In my experience, such things tend to end badly. I can hardly see the point in that sort of suffering when there is someone else to hand, even if he is not the prefect love your heart is hoping for. Lord Grey is one of the wealthiest men in England, though he takes pains not to show it. He’s been London’s most eligible bachelor for so long that most mothers have quite given up hope of their daughters snagging him. I should not say this, but in private he has expressed having changed his views towards the institution.”

“So you also think Lord Grey means to propose to me?”

“I do. And if he does, I think that you should accept him.”

“But you know I don’t feel for him, not in that way at least.”

Lady Susan, who seems to be tiring of Charlotte’s stubborn refusal to see sense, continues in a slightly exasperated tone, “I dare say he doesn’t feel quite that way about you either, but clearly he is willing to overlook that small matter.”

Charlotte sits staring at Lady Susan for a long time, trying to puzzle out exactly what her friend meant by that last comment. If Lord Grey didn’t feel _that way_ , why would he propose to her? Again, she curses her inexperience in such matters. “Why can’t this be easy?” she grumbles. “Why isn’t there someone out there for me that possesses all of the different qualities both men have to offer?”

“Lord Grey’s wealth and conversation in Mr. Stringer’s rather thrilling figure you mean?”

The tension broken by Lady Susan’s return to humor, both women begin to laugh. “Well, something like that, unless you think it too much to ask,” Charlotte admits with a broad smile.

Lady Susan settles back into her chair. Placing her hand on Charlotte’s arm, she looks pityingly at her friend. “You’d be hard pressed to find a woman in your situation that was able to find the best of both in a single man. It is rarely the chief concern that a husband be anything other than rich. Temperament and amiability are secondary concerns. It is generally thought that one can find what one’s husband lacks elsewhere, after a respectful amount of time has passed.”

Charlotte sees now that Susan is talking in some ways about her own situation. She never felt comfortable broaching the subject before. “Is that how it was with you and your… companion?”

“In a way. He might have married me, but I refused him. I could see, as he could not that he must marry someone whose alliance would benefit all of England. When one has the station that he has, there are certain responsibilities that must always trump other matters. Your position has similar concerns. There is your family, your friends to consider.”

Lady Susan’s words lead Charlotte to realize that in allowing herself to be governed by her passions, she had forgotten how impractical her preference for James truly was. A small part of her hates herself for stringing him along the way she had. Still, she thinks, in all their encounters of late, he had never suggested that theirs would ever become any more than a clandestine affair. Perhaps, it could continue to be so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Week: Sidney receives some shocking news


	12. Pack Your Things

Dear Sidney,

You have been in Antigua so long I am beginning to wonder if you ever intend to return to England. Well, no matter if you do or do not. I have come to the conclusion that I shall no longer waste my days pining for your return. When you left I harbored secret, silent doubts that you still felt some regard for me. You may protest, and say that the post is unreliable, but you cannot deny that your woeful lack of correspondence is further proof that you no longer love me as you once did. I have enough self possession to demand that my future partner has some minimum of feeling towards me. I am sorry for you, and for whatever circumstances brought you to this love-less point, but my pity will not lead me to sacrifice my own happiness any further. It is because of my regard for myself that I release you from our engagement. I do not know when you shall receive this letter, but I trust you will not be unduly troubled by this news. By the time you return, if you ever do, it will probably be likely that I am married by then. In your absence I have found someone who enjoys me for who I am. I have no more illusions that you could ever care for me the way that he does.

Sincerely,

Eliza Campion

Sitting in the breakfast room of Georgiana’s estate Sidney sets the letter aside, more than a little relieved that things had indeed turned out as he had wanted. Things are looking up, or so he believes, as he reaches for the next in his stack of correspondence. Seeing it is from Tom, he breaks the seal looking forward to what he can only expect will be more good news from his brother. With Tom’s increasing upward trajectory, Sidney’s obligations to his brother might be settled at last, leaving him free to pursue his own heart’s hope at last. Hand trembling, he opens the letter, praying that the contents will contain that last thing he needs to hear before he make his long-overdue return to England where he might beg the forgiveness of the woman he longs to reconcile himself to.

Dearest Brother,

Everything here in Sanditon is going so well, it beggars belief. How I wish you were here to see it! Things are so different from how they were last year. The town is abuzz with the sounds of work and industry. No less an esteemed personage than the Prince Regent himself has declared Sanditon to be a place on the rise. He has recently purchased a large area near the waterfront where he intends to begin a massive building project, helmed by none other than Lord Grey, the famous architect. You know I should dearly love to take credit for all this good fortune, but I feel we must once again owe our happiness to none other than Miss Heywood.

Doubtless you remember how Miss Heywood had formed a friendship with Lady Worcester. Well that dear girl became a constant companion of Lady Susan’s after she left here last summer. Together she and that great lady came to town some months ago, and brought His Royal Highness along with them. Being the font of wisdom and taste that he is, he at once saw that same potential here that I and Lady Denham had. “Mr. Parker,” said Lady Denham, “you are quite the genius for finding Miss Heywood.” Such a charming girl, you remember of course. Charming, indeed, for there is now a rather substantial rumor that she and Lord Grey shall be engaged soon. Imagine that! Our dear, innocent, country girl, who might never have left Willingden, if not for Mary and I. Married to a peer of the realm! I’m sure you know Lord Grey’s reputation as one of the most desirable bachelors in England. Everyone swore for so long that he would never marry. Well, it could not have happened to a dearer girl. Mary and I are beside ourselves. The fortune of the whole town seems only ever to rise and rise. We do of course wish you were here to share our good news. If everything continues it’s upwards climb, I shall be able to pay you back for the many times you indulged your once foolish brother. It is our dear hope that you and Georgiana will return post haste. You are both very much missed.

Your Brother,

Tom

Finishing the letter, Sidney slams his fist down on the table with such force, that he overturns the teacup beside him. Its contents stream across the table in every direction, threatening the remaining correspondence.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Georgiana exclaims from her seat across the table. Rising, she moves to right the teacup, as it seems obvious that Sidney will not.

Clenching his jaw, Sidney stares at her for a long while. Several choice words that his old self might have said flicker in his imagination, while he struggles to keep them contained.

“You’ll break a tooth like that,” Georgiana continues sarcastically, fixing Sidney with a soul piercing gaze as she continues soaking up the spilled tea with her napkin.

“I…” Sidney begins. “Tom…” Finally, unable to look at her judging eyes any longer, he pushes back his chair, and throwing his hands in the air, moves to leave the room.

Losing his tenuous grasp on his self control, Sidney paces for some time before finally crossing to the window. Turning his back on Georgiana, he tries once more to reign himself in. Why had he been so stupid to believe that Charlotte would wait for him? With a pang he remembers how abominably he had treated her, how she must hate him now. In his imagination he had fooled himself into believing that he could hide here from all his problems. That once Eliza lost interest he could return and sweep Charlotte off her feet as he should have done so many months ago. Why did he not realize that she must hate him? How could it be otherwise?

“God, I am such an idiot,” he murmurs to the curtains.

“Well, obviously,” Georgiana replies. “But do not think that fact makes you special. All men are,” she adds with a hint of contempt. Looking down at the mess on the table, her eyes flicker over the addresses of the letters there.

“You’ve had a letter from Mrs. Campion too,” she says tentatively, picking up the paper.

“She’s broken our engagement.”

“I can’t imagine why that would upset you. Horrible woman.” Georgiana holds the letter away from her, as though afraid that even touching the thing might somehow contaminate her.

“It hasn’t. Tom’s letter. Read it,” is all Sidney can manage to say in reply.

Drying it off as best she can, Georgiana reads the offending document. Finally she says, “What is it exactly that has gotten you so upset? Tom seems to be doing well, his precious town is saved.”

“Who… is… Lord… Grey?” Sidney manages through gritted teeth.

“You’re upset about Charlotte?” Georgiana asks, confused. “Wait. You mean to tell me you actually care for her.”

“Of course I do. What did you think?”

“I thought you were amusing yourself. I didn’t think you had a heart capable of feeling. Well, not until recently.”

“You thought me heartless. Perhaps I was. No. I definitely was. I had no time to waste on young ladies, not after…well. But Charlotte completely challenged and rearranged my notions of what a young woman could be. She surprised me. And piece by piece, I removed the wall I had built around my heart. All for naught, it would appear. She hates me, and will marry this Lord Grey, whoever he is.”

“I wouldn’t be so certain.” Once more Sidney can feel Georgiana pitying him, as he watches him trying to temper her words. “She has written to me about Lord Grey. I do not think she is at all certain of her regard for him.”

“Tell me, has she ever spoken of me in her letters?”

“She has, mostly to tell me how she wishes she could forget you, which makes me think she hasn’t.”

Grasping desperately to that last speck of hope, Sidney manages a small smile. “Perhaps all is not lost.” Turning to face the uncertain chaos of his destiny, he announces, “Georgiana, pack your things! We return to England at once!”

Squealing with glee, Georgiana plants a kiss firmly on Sidney’s cheek before rushing from the room in a whirl of silk and lace.


	13. A Walk in the Woods

My Darling Charlotte,

My faults are many; as I am sure you are well aware. It was not until last night, seeing you so happy in the company of another, that I began to truly appreciate what my foolishness has cost me. From the moment of our first meeting, I should have seen you as the courageous woman you are. However, I was too willfully blind to recognize the strength of character it took for you to share your honest thoughts with a stranger. You bore it so well, when I chastised you. That should have been further evidence of the unique mind you possess. Yet again, in my conceit, I felt myself to be in every way your superior. You were no one that could be of use to me, therefore I considered you beneath my contempt. Time and time again you proved to me just how wrong that initial hypothesis was.

Despite all my imperfection, you opened your heart to me. You showed me that love and true companionship had not passed me by. The tendrils of my growing affection for you slowly wrapped themselves around my heart. I should have given all that I am to you the instant that I first felt them take root. Fear and shame prevented me. Vain, senseless man that I am, I allowed my past sins to ruin my future, our future. I know you said you forgave me, but I will never forgive myself.

Foolishly, it seems, I held out hope that your heart would still be free when I returned. I see now it was irrational to expect you would wait for me. If I hadn’t been so cowardly, I would have broken things off with Eliza, not hid myself half the world away, waiting for her to cast me off once more. I do not blame you for forming other attachments in my absence. Tom had warned me that you had attracted the attention of Lord Grey. I returned to England, praying the rumors about you and he were not true. I was prepared to fight for you when I came back, but now, seeing how happy you were talking with him, I realize I have no right to upset your life once again. I wish you and Lord Grey every happiness as you move through this life together. I only hope that he will regard you with the adoration and deep respect that you deserve.

Ever Yours,

Sidney Parker

Letter tucked securely into the pocket of his vest, Sidney strides forward, determined to make it to Lady Susan’s door this time. It was the second such attempt he had made to deliver his heart’s pitiful apology to Charlotte. His courage had failed him before, but he was determined to succeed this time. As he approaches the door, he ignores his higher sense of reason. This letter was idiocy itself, he knows. What could it possibly accomplish? He does not know, but feels that too much has been left unsaid to leave these sentiments undelivered.

Shutting down the conscious part of his mind, that part that might otherwise object, Sidney knocks firmly on the door. Feeling somewhat detached from his own body, he hands the letter to the butler, only half hearing that the ladies were not expected home for some time. Mumbling his thanks to the man, Sidney turns on his heel, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this act of reckless madness.

Still feeling strangely disconnected from his body, Sidney makes his way through town. Passing the final houses, he hardly notices when the paved roads turn rougher. He simply follows his feet until they lead him to a woodland path he cannot remember ever having walked before.

As he walks ever deeper into the wood, scenes from the previous evening invade his thoughts. He had imagined the dinner at the Regents would unfold in an entirely different manner than it had. In his mind, he would be the returning hero. In his delusion he had actually imagined Charlotte rushing to his side when she first laid eyes on him. The reality of the night was far different. Apart from a brief moment when their eyes met across the table, she had barely looked at him. Instead she was almost completely absorbed in conversation with Lord Grey the entire time. How he envied Lord Grey! It was easy to see what Charlotte might admire about the man. He had it all; status, wealth, a pleasing figure and demeanor. Most of all, he had not made that fatal error in judgment that Sidney realizes now that he had so clearly done. Lord Grey, as much as Sidney might want to hate him, had seen Charlotte for the treasure that she was. Now all Sidney could do was retreat back into his selfishness and solitude.

With a jolt, he realizes he had no right to deliver such a selfish letter. Instead, he should have silently suffered this final act of letting her go, as she had been forced to do when he made the catastrophic mistake of engaging himself once more to Eliza. Charlotte appeared to be happiness itself with Lord Grey; maybe he _should_ let the past die for once. As he follows the meandering trail before him through a grove of tall, sturdy trees, Sidney searches his memory of the evening to see if there was any possibility that Charlotte still held any tender feelings towards him.

One moment in particular seems to stick out to him. Stringer, the man who was little better than Tom’s foreman, was at the party. At the time, it seemed incongruous, but not alarming. Looking back however, Sidney sees now how Stringer seemed to possess a smug sort of self-satisfaction. If he did not know better, it would seem that Stringer had been gloating, as if having gotten the upper hand in some matter. But Stringer could never hope to marry Charlotte, of this Sidney was certain. What would the man possibly have to brag about in that regard? 

Sidney is attempting to reconcile this anomaly when he notices a figure out of the corner of his eye. He moves closer, and as he does a most alarming scene comes into focus. Before him is not one person, but two, both totally unaware of his intrusion on their private liaison. At first Sidney thinks little of it, passing it off as some young couple from the village, doing what comes only naturally to young people that lack proper decorum. As his mind begins to focus on the pair however, he notices the man whose back is to him, seems to have remarkable similarities to Mr. Stringer. The longer he stares, the more he notices the loose brown hair of the woman cascading in soft waves as the man, his fingers sliding through the tresses, kisses her most passionately. Sidney watches as the man’s attention moves from her lips, to her neck, before finally reaching her heaving bosom. The woman’s eyes flutter open and briefly meet his, they widen in alarm as recognition dawns on both of them at apparently the same moment.

“Charlotte!” Sidney rasps, almost inaudibly. Too astonished to comprehend the significance of this moment, Sidney’s body takes over, becoming all action. Striding forward, he pulls Stringer away from the very woman who he so desperately desired. Backing his rival against a tree, all sounds of her protestations are mute to him as he prepares to deliver what he knows will be a punishing physical retaliation for the young man’s presumption. Looking into Stringer’s defiant brown eyes, Sidney’s feelings become confused. He becomes irrationally possessed by the idea that those lips, Stringer’s lips, had kissed the woman who he had been denied by his own selfish foolishness. Maybe he doesn’t deserve her, but neither did this impetuous upstart. Confused, angered, and aroused, he does not know what possesses him, but in that instant he presses forward. Pinning Stringer against the tree with the weight of his own body, he leans into a deep, passionate kiss.


	14. The Three Ladies

Georgiana,

I can hardly believe everything that occurred yesterday. When I tell you of it, you will think I have taken up a career writing fiction. Please come to Lady Susan’s as soon as you are able, as I have a great many things to acquaint you of.

Yours,

Charlotte

Charlotte had been desperate to see Georgiana since last evening, but her fear of crossing paths with any of the three men who had her head so muddled had prevented her going out. In simpler times, she would have just walked down to Georgiana’s lodgings, but since Sidney would most assuredly be somewhere nearby, she had decided against it. Even now, she still did not know what to make of the events which had transpired in the woods the day before. Whether Georgiana would be any more successful in figuring out what Charlotte’s next course of action should be, Charlotte did not know. She could only hope, as she sent the maid off with her note, that Georgiana might offer some encouragement. 

Replaying the events of yesterday in her head, Charlotte was still distressed that Sidney had been the one to discover her and James’ secluded meeting spot. The prospect of being found, no matter how slim, had made their woodland rendezvous all the more exciting. She had never once considered that anyone of consequence would happen upon them. Perhaps more shocking than being discovered by Sidney, was the way he had so fervidly kissed James before punching him square in the jaw. Charlotte had heard of men becoming thus entwined in some of the books Susan had given her to read, but never did she imagine that she would ever witness such a powerfully erotic sight for herself. The idea of two such strong, handsome men united in that particular way was far more titillating than she had ever imagined. Sadly, the blow that Sidney delivered had put an abrupt end to a scene which Charlotte very much wished she had been able to enjoy longer.

It had been an exciting afternoon, to say the least, and all Charlotte wanted afterwards was to return home to enjoy the rest of the evening in solitude. Unfortunately, that was not to be. She had scarcely taken off her bonnet in the hallway when Lady Susan rushed in to announce that Lord Grey was waiting for her in the library. Still not recovered from what had just transpired in the woods, Charlotte had found it hard to concentrate on the words Lord Grey was saying. He seemed to be making an offer of marriage to her, but even in her heightened state of excitement, she felt his proposal to be sorely short of essentials. For one thing, when contrasted with Esther’s story of Babington’s proposal, Lord Grey seemed to lack the kind of emotional resonance that the moment required. Charlotte supposes that if she had been more clear-headed at the time, she might have seen it differently.

Whatever happened that afternoon in the library, Charlotte knew she had not rejected Lord Grey outright. Her mind overwrought by the excitement of the day, she had confessed to feeling out of sorts and not being prepared to give an answer. This seemed to satisfy Lord Grey, who politely bowed and took his leave before Charlotte collapsed on the chaise half laughing, half crying from the exertion of keeping herself together.

Sitting in the parlor, waiting now for her friend to arrive, Charlotte feels herself on the brink once more. Rising to check out the front window yet again, she cannot imagine what it was that could be keeping Georgiana from paying her call.

“Charlotte. You’ll drive me crazy pacing about like that,” Lady Susan announces, looking up from the pages of her book.

“I know. I’m sorry,” Charlotte says haltingly, turning and leaning against the sill. “I just can’t seem to settle down.”

“I know you want Georgiana here, but I do wish you’d share your thoughts with me. You’ve barely spoken a word since Lord Grey left last evening. I’d hoped that you’d know by now how much you may rely on me.”

“Oh, I do. Truly,” Charlotte says emphatically, stalking back and forth once more. “It’s only. Well, things are so confused. I feel I need both of your perspectives to help me sort things out.”

“Very well,” Lady Susan sighs. “I only hope Georgiana does not make us wait much longer, I should hate to see such a fine rug as this ruined by your excessive pacing.”

Charlotte smiles weakly at Susan before settling back down onto the sofa. Though she tries to keep herself occupied with other things, Charlotte’s mind wanders once more to the events of yesterday. Moments after Lord Grey had made his suspiciously serene departure, Lady Susan’s butler had arrived with a letter from Sidney. Its contents had only left Charlotte more confused and heartbroken than ever. She knew she had behaved badly at the dinner party in question. She had not expected Sidney to be there, and so had clung to Lord Grey’s side more than she might have otherwise. In a desperate bid to not open herself up afresh to the pain of their shared history, she had inadvertently harmed the first man she had truly loved. She had tried to ignore the rumors that his engagement had been broken; it seemed almost too good to be true. Trying to lock her feelings back up where they belonged, after the dinner she had run into Stringer’s waiting arms, hoping that the blissful oblivion he promised would save her from having to face the truth of her reality. However, there in the woods fantasy and reality had collided. Now inhabiting some liminal space, Charlotte floats unmoored from the world, hoping that her friends will restore to her the good sense that will anchor her once more.

Lost in thought, she almost does not notice when Georgiana is announced at the door. Wanting to waste no further time Charlotte immediately relays the events of the past twenty-four hours to her friend.

“Wait, what exactly were you doing in the woods with Mr. Stringer?” Georgiana blurts out, when Charlotte’s rant is at an end.

“That’s the part that concerns you most?” Charlotte replies. Had Georgiana been listening at all, she wonders. 

“Well, I would think that you would have told me about it! How long have you two been having… relations?” Turning to Lady Susan, Georgiana adds, “You don’t seem at all shocked by this. I assume you knew?”

“Yes, I was aware of Charlotte and Mr. Stringer’s dalliance. In fact I encouraged it,” Susan replies proudly. “However Charlotte, you cannot allow your physical attraction to Mr. Stringer lead you to slight a man of a thousand times his fortune.”

“You would honestly suggest I accept Lord Grey’s proposal?” Charlotte asks astonished. “Even though you know I have no feelings for him other than those of friendship.”

“I dare say he doesn’t feel that way about you either.” Susan replies in her frank, unsentimental way.

“Meaning?” Charlotte asks tentatively, not sure she wants to know the answer.

“Meaning, his taste tends more towards men than women,” Georgiana replies, haughtily.

“What?” Charlotte is having a hard time comprehending what her two friends are saying. How could everyone but her know what Lord Grey’s private interests were?

“I’m sure you must have read those other books I gave you? That one in particular... with the wrestling scene between the two men? Where they were grappling, sweating, rolling about?” Susan raises her eyebrows to emphasize her last words.

“I think I need to read this book,” Georgiana interjects, sending the women into a fit of giggles.

Charlotte cannot believe she did not see the signs earlier. There was no attraction that she felt, and can see now how Lord Grey did not seem overly attracted to her either. In fact, the only times he seemed to emanate any kind of dynamism was when they were both in the presence of James. Charlotte had thought that it was her feelings of attraction towards Stringer that she was picking up on, but remembering certain interactions, she now realizes how much she had missed.

“Seriously though, even if he were not so disinterested in our sex, you cannot marry Lord Grey, not when Sidney loves you so profoundly,” Georgiana says when she finally composes herself. 

“Does he love me? I’m not sure. Even he thinks I should marry Lord Grey. He told me as much in his letter. Is that the behavior of someone in love?”

“Clearly he doesn’t believe he deserves you. And he probably doesn’t, to be honest,” admits Georgiana.

“But what man deserves the woman who loves them?” Lady Susan counters.

“That may be,” Georgiana admits with a smile. “But he does love you. Forgive me for saying this Charlotte, but you keep complaining that with Stringer there is no intellectual challenge, and that with Lord Grey there is no physical connection. You have told me yourself that you wish there were someone that possessed the best traits of both men.”

“It’s true,” concurs Lady Susan. “You’ve expressed similar sentiments to me as well.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Sidney is that man.” Georgiana searches Charlotte’s eyes, hoping that her friend can see the truth behind her words.

“He may very well be,” Lady Susan retorts, “but I’d hardly say his behavior towards Charlotte does much to recommend him as a suitable partner. Charlotte, you must not be so quick to dismiss Lord Grey’s suit, certainly not for a man so fickle as Sidney Parker. Besides, I do not think Lord Grey would give a fig if you were to continue seeing either man. Indeed, you could probably continue to meet privately with both, all while enjoying the comfort and protection of Lord Grey’s extensive fortune.”

Charlotte sighs, knowing that both women made excellent points. No matter how passionate her friends’ entreaties, however, Charlotte finds herself no more able to judge the best course of her future than she had been when the conversation had started.


	15. Midsummer's Ball

Rising early, Charlotte feels for once that she is firmly planted on solid ground. Certain in the path she must now walk, she gets dressed, ready to face the challenges of the day. Fueled by her newfound determination, she looks forward to taking those next steps towards the future that she has chosen for herself. After a quick breakfast, she dons her bonnet, seizes her parasol, and steps out into the warmth of the summer morning.

Not pausing even to look at the alluring items in the shop windows she passes, Charlotte makes her way through town to her ultimate destination. With the surety of someone whose life is finally settled, she reaches out to rap at the door of the man with whom she intends to enjoy all the remaining days of her life.

Her knock at first goes unanswered. Frowning, she is about to turn to leave, when at last the door creaks open to reveal the slightly disheveled figure of her chosen companion.

“Miss Charlotte, I weren’t expecting you so early,” James Stringer replies, running his fingers through his unruly mass of curly hair. “Come in.”

“Sorry to stop by so suddenly. I just had to see you.” Charlotte looks around the room. Something feels off, though she cannot quite put her finger on it.

“Was there something you needed?” James asks, somewhat distractedly. “I’ve got to be down at the works. There is a shipment coming in and I’m expected to be there to receive it. I’m sorry, but I must go soon.”

“Yes, of course,” Charlotte stumbles. “I understand.” Regaining her poise, she takes a deep breath. There was an odor to the air she recognized, but could not quite place. “I simply wanted to see you, to talk with you. Can you meet me later?”

“How about lunch time then?” James offers, guiding Charlotte by the waist back towards the door.

Thinking she heard a noise in the back room, she turns for one last look at the place. It is then that she notices a tall grey top hat, perched upon a chair in the corner.

“Ah, that will be Lord Grey’s.” James says unbidden, having followed the trajectory of Charlottes gaze. “He left it here yesterday when he came to talk with me about some of his new ideas for His Highness’s project. I will have to remember to return it to him.”

“Certainly,” Charlotte remarks somewhat dazedly. For not the first time this week, she feels her world tilt on its axis. Recomposing herself as best she can, she bids James farewell, promising to be at their new secret meeting place at the appointed hour.

~ ~ ~

Charlotte can hear the clock in the town square strike noon as she paces the riverbank waiting for James’ arrival. In the time that had passed since their strange exchange in his quarters, Charlotte had wrestled once more with the wisdom of her recent choice. Somewhat stubborn in her mindset now, she had however decided to stick with James Stringer as the man with whom she wanted to share her life. Despite what her friends might say about their difference in station, he was the most sensible choice in her mind. Neither Lord Grey nor Sidney had turned out to be what they had promised. Only James, who had loved her from afar, then persevered after her affections when all hope seemed lost, was truly worthy of her. This much she had decided despite Georgiana and Lady Susan’s urgings that she would be throwing away her future in an impossible gamble that James’ fortunes would rise. Worried about the prospect of being left alone with her doubts and conflicting thoughts, she is overcome with relief when at long last she sees the figure of Mr. Stringer emerge from behind the trees.

“Charlotte,” he begins, taking her hands in his. “Truly you are the most extraordinary person I ever met. I wish so dearly that it were in my power to make you happy all the days of your life,” he continues, placing a firm, but delicate kiss on her lips.

Charlotte can feel herself sliding into a world of pure sensation and pleasure as the kisses continue. However something about James’ words doesn’t sit right. With all her strength, she pulls from his embrace and asks, “Why should you not be that man?”

“You know that I have nothing to offer you, other than myself. As much as I have enjoyed our time together, I think this should be the last time we ever meet as more than friends.”

Charlotte cannot believe the words she is hearing. She wants to protest, to proclaim aloud that she had chosen him, him above all her other fine suitors. Now, seeing how he seemed so ready to give her up, she realizes how foolishly one-sided her attachment has been. “But, James,” she begins.

“No, Charlotte,” he interrupts, a weak smile struggling at the corner of his lips. “I cannot continue seeing you because I am not the man you need to have as your husband. I wish I did deserve your hand, but you know it’s not just the difference of our birth. I am a simple man, too comfortable in my ways. I like predictability, order. We’d marry, have children and then what? You want me to see you give up all your fine ideas to raise our children? No,” he shakes his head. “Not for the world. You need someone to push you forward towards better and better things. As much as I have loved what we have shared, throwing your lot in with me would be a step backwards for you.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this. So what, you think I should marry Lord Grey?” Charlotte scoffs.

“No.”

“Why not? If you’ll not take the chance on our future, why shouldn’t I marry comfortably?”

“For one thing, his true nature might surprise you,” James begins shyly.

“You mean his preference for men?”

“You knew?” James asks, his astonishment palpable.

“I suspected,” Charlotte shrugs, trying to affect that cool demeanor she had sometimes seen Lady Susan adopt. “That’s why I had already decided I couldn’t marry him.”

“Well, you can’t seriously think I would be any better match for you. I love you, of course I do, but that’s not really enough. Maybe I would think differently if _he_ hadn’t come back to town so clearly repentant over his past mistakes.”

“Who do you mean?” A knot twisting in her stomach, Charlotte can barely believe she is about to give voice to the secret longings of her soul. “Surely you aren’t speaking of Sidney Parker? After he treated me so abominably?” Charlotte had been loath to allow herself to think of Sidney as a possible partner, even after Georgiana’s protestations. She did not feel her heart could bear the possibility of his once again slighting her as he had so many times before. It seemed a double betrayal that James would even hint at her attaching herself to the man who had so thoroughly broken her heart.

Charlotte can barely register the words of James’ further explanations to her as she turns to leave. The idea that he would turn against her like this leaves her feeling claustrophobic, even in this open space.

James catches Charlotte by her wrist just as she turns to leave. Drawing her close to him, he lifts her chin. “Don’t be afraid to follow your heart, Charlotte. I know you loved him once. Its rare for me to swallow my pride like this, but I trust that you’ll not make fun of me for it.”

“No,” she shakes her head.

“Neither I nor Lord Grey can offer you everything that he will. If I know you at all, I know that you will never be happy with simple material wealth nor marital complacency. It took me a while, but I see now that you and he are more suited for each other than you and I could ever be.” As if anticipating her next question, James continues. “Do not ask me to stay. I will not. I will not sacrifice you upon the altar of my own happiness. That too would diminish in time, and you would hate me for it. He would always be in the back of your mind. I would be suspicious, jealous; I will not subject either of us to that. Against all odds, you have come back to each other. I will not stand in the way of that.”

Seeing the sense of James’s words, Charlotte nods through tears. Did she really have the strength to risk the kind of pain that giving her heart once more to Sidney could mean?

“Well then. I’ll miss you, Miss Charlotte.” Raising her chin, he brings his lips to hers for the last time. The kiss evolves until it transforms into all those silent words that the two of them wishes they could say aloud.

A seeming eternity slips by as the two lovers say this, their final goodbye. When at last Charlotte finds the strength to leave, she wanders aimlessly for some time before she feels composed enough to return home. All her certainty gone Charlotte wonders how she will ever manage to face tomorrow’s midsummer’s ball and its confluence of both future and past. Could she really believe that Sidney was not only repentant but that he still loved her? Was she willing to admit that she never stopped loving him?

The excitement of the day leaves Charlotte so exhausted that she retires for bed early that night. Blissfully, sleep overtakes her soon after she lays her head on the pillow.

The next day is thankfully a flurry of activity. Between the final dress fittings and social calls, there is hardly a moment for Charlotte to indulge either her fantasies or her fears about the course the evening would take.

In the assembly rooms, Charlotte and Lady Susan arrive just as the ball is beginning to hit its stride. To her chagrin, Charlotte notices that not one of the men who had thrown her world into such disarray were yet present. Not able to bear the suspense of awaiting each man’s arrival, Charlotte endeavors to engage herself in deep conversation with Lady Susan and some of their friends. It is therefore not until Lady Susan’s gentle nudge breaks her concentration, that Charlotte notices that the figure of a gentleman has come to stand behind her.

“Mr. Parker! So good to see you again,” Lady Susan smiles and curtseys as Charlotte begins the process of slowly turning around to face the newcomer, sincerely hoping for once it was only Tom.

Two intense eyes pierce her soul as Charlotte looks into the face of her destiny. Wordlessly, he offers his hand to her. In a trance, Charlotte allows herself to be led through the crowd and onto the dance floor. 


	16. Finale

Dear Madame,

Your company is requested at the wedding of Miss Charlotte Heywood and Mr. Sidney Parker on this the 29th of August at ten o’clock in the morning. Refreshments will be served following the ceremony at Sanditon Church in the gardens of Denham Place.

~ ~ ~

Shifting his weight Sidney clears his throat before directing his gaze over the faces of the assembled crowd. In all the years he had secretly spent hoping this moment would come, it was nothing like he had imagined. Indeed, three short weeks ago, he would have told anyone who would listen that such an event were quite impossible. How much had changed since then! Far from the lonely life he had once foreseen for himself, he now stands ready to bind his life to the woman who had resurrected his heart more than once.

Surprised by his luck, he still struggles to believe that everything worked out as it had. Wishing to see Charlotte one last time before returning forever to London, Sidney had asked her to dance with him at the Midsummer’s Ball. He had no idea that she still felt anything for him until that moment. As they twirled across the floor, the world beyond their circling became a blur, while everything between the two of them distilled into a crystalline clarity. He needed no words to see that she was every bit as irrevocably linked to him as he was to her. After the ball had ended he had wasted no time in renewing his addresses to her. Feeling that they had each waited long enough, it was decided that they should marry as soon as her family could be fetched from Willingden. It was then only a matter of waiting the customary time until the arrival of this blessed day.

Refocusing his attention on the interior of Sanditon Church, Sidney smiles to himself as he looks down the long aisle. There, radiant in the morning sun, he sees his angel walking towards him. Overwhelmed by emotion and anticipation, his smile widens until he is certain he must be the most ridiculous looking fool in England. However, he cares little for appearances as the ceremony begins and his focus narrows. Transfixed by the small, delicate fingers that he now held in his hand, he feels himself growing lighter. He had never before believed in miracles, but here at last was proof enough for him.

Following the ceremony Sidney escorts his new bride from the church towards the carriage that waited to take them to Lady Denham’s estate. No matter how often he had stressed that she need not undertake such unnecessary trouble, Lady Denham would hear none of it. Despite his initial judgment of her, it seemed the old lady was more of a hopeless romantic than anyone would have guessed.

Wandering the finely decorated lawn, Sidney marvels at how harmonious the world now seemed. In search of his bride, he passes friends old and new, all seeming to share in his good fortune. He cannot imagine a time in his life where he had ever been happier, although, glancing over at his wife, he can imagine future moments that might exceed this one. He ponders briefly whether it were too soon for the pair of them to move on to a more private party. Certain that no one would fault him for wanting to start his new life, he whispers to one of Lady Denham’s footmen to ready his carriage, therefore setting his plan in motion. The only remaining impediment was finding the right time to slip away from the party. Discovering a way to separate Charlotte from the company at last, he moves to join the rather animated conversation she is having with Georgiana, Diana and his younger brother Arthur.

Timing it perfectly, he inserts himself at Charlotte’s side just as Arthur says something ridiculous enough to throw the ladies into a fit of giggles.

“Oh, Arthur,” cries Diana, hitting her brother’s arm with the flat of her fan.

The attention fixed on his siblings, Sidney seizes his chance to whisper in his darling’s ear. “I know you said I shouldn’t, but I do have a gift for you.”

His words are met with a playful elbow in his side and a serious look that was clearly trying very hard to resemble disapproval. Recognizing the glare for the imposter it was, he simply waits until her resolve melts under the heat of her curiosity. At last she offers him a smile.

“Quick,” he whispers conspiratorially. “Come with me.”

They sneak off around the back of the house to where his phaeton awaits. With little thought to the rest of the party, they race towards town. Though Sidney tries for as long as he can to conceal their destination, there were not many routes into Sanditon from Lady Denham’s estate. Therefore it is not long before they pull up in front of the row of just finished luxury apartments.

“I have no estate to take you to, and have lost my taste for London,” he begins, as he offers Charlotte his hand, and helps her down from the carriage. “I thought you might like to have a place to call your own.”

“But Sidney,” Charlotte begins to protest.

“Mrs. Parker,” he continues with a smile, as he opens the front door so that his new bride might step inside.

He can feel the delight radiating off of her as she marvels at the interior.

“Do you approve then?” he asks. “I have not furnished it, not completely. I thought you would help me choose the rest.”

“Not furnished completely?” she asks, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Why no, Mrs. Parker, not completely, as you can see by the sorry state of this parlor.”

“But surely there are other areas of the house that have received more of your… attention?”

“I _can_ think of one or two,” he hedges.

“Then if you please, Mr. Parker, won’t you show me those places? I should dearly love to get a fuller appreciation for your sense of style.”

Leading her upstairs towards their bedchamber, he smiles. “This way,” he beckons as he opens the door to the immense room. Striding across towards the window, he moves towards a small sideboard that held a bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses. With a satisfying pop, the cork slides free of its confinement.

Charlotte struggles to contain a nervous giggle, as she smiles at him. Sidney’s heart leaps at the sight of her unguarded reaction to the sudden noise. She must be nervous, he thinks as he begins to pour the sparkling liquid. Anticipation catches in his throat as he wordlessly passes the glass to her. The moment he had hitherto only dreamed of was finally manifesting itself.

Charlotte takes a small sip of the champagne, before setting the glass down on the table. Sidney watches her intensely, not certain exactly how to proceed. His desire to make this moment perfect renders him temporarily paralyzed. Though he knows that nothing about his beloved should surprise him anymore, he is caught quite off guard when she makes the first move.

In his mind, he had imagined himself slowly initiating Charlotte into the world of carnal pleasures. However, his bride seemed to have a rather different pace in mind as her nimble fingers begin to work at loosening his cravat. Before Sidney can move to protest, her eager fingers have deprived him of his coat and vest as well. Ever vigilant in his desire to deny his wife nothing, he obligingly pulls his off his shirt as well, until he stands regarding her in nothing more than his breeches. Deeply edified, he finds it strangely arousing that she seemed to take such great pleasure in ranging her hands across the terrain of his muscular chest and back.

All his being cries out for her as Charlotte’s hands explore him. Matching her zeal, he allows himself to explore those regions of her that were forbidden to him moments earlier. He can feel his shaft swell as he cups her breasts. Leaning down, he pushes the fabric of her dress aside to reveal the perfect pink bud concealed therein. Flicking his tongue against the erect flesh of Charlotte’s nipple, Sidney teases only for a moment before taking the small nub into his mouth.

Sidney is well aware of the manner in which Charlotte’s breathing changes as he focuses his attentions on her heaving bosom. Content only with thoughts of giving his darling the very heights of sensation, he reaches down to scoop her into his arms. Cradling her, he feels her melt ever so slightly into him as she leans into his chest. Wordlessly he sets her on the edge of the bed he had chosen precisely with this moment in mind.

Drawing her close for one last lingering kiss, he releases his hold on Charlotte as he begins to trace his kisses down the length of her supple frame as he moves to stand over her. Looking down, he takes her foot in hand. Carefully removing her shoes and stockings, he caresses every inch of her flesh as though he were attempting to memorize it by feel alone. When at last he reaches the moment where mere touch will satisfy no longer, he advances once more with his lips and tongue. Blazing a trail towards the treasure of her sex, he gathers up her skirts as he begins his first tentative onslaught. Progressing and retreating, he brings Charlotte into such a state of frenzied anticipation that he himself can hardly believe the words that escape her lips as his tongue deftly assaults her most tender of places. When at last he feels the moment of her exquisite climax drawing near, he redoubles his efforts. He will not be satisfied until she is a heaving, writhing bundle of sensation. Only then will he feel he has earned his entrance to her most sacred of spaces.

When at last he brings about the erupting force of Charlotte’s orgasm, Sidney sits back for a moment, well pleased with himself. Wordlessly he waits for his beloved to signal that she is ready to proceed. After a long, self-satisfied silence, her eyes flutter open at last. Confident that he has fulfilled his pledge to put her pleasures above his own, Sidney smiles at her, licking his lips. Though he might have once felt insecure in his ability to please a woman, there could be no denying that his wife was well sated.

However, her contentment does not seem to last long. Soon after recovering her senses, Charlotte rises from her prone position, and once again begins an assault of her own. Even now she presses against him, greedy to experience more of the pleasure that he had given her. Never before had a woman been so genuinely eager for his cock as his own dear wife seemed when pressing her small, warm hand against the bulge in his trousers. Each caress as she deftly undoes his buttons, only heightens his anticipation. Closing his eyes briefly, he surrenders himself to her gentle touch.

A subtle moan escapes Sidney’s lips as he feels an unexpected warmth encircle his throbbing member. Looking down, his eyes briefly meet Charlotte’s as she presses her lips down around his shaft. Sidney can feel her earnest desire to please as she works her own magic spell on him. Straining to keep his energies contained, he tries to think of anything apart from the innumerable pleasures radiating from the core of his being as his dear one ministers so lovingly to his aching cock. Finally realizing that even he can take no more, he commands her to stop.

Obediently, Charlotte ceases all activity. A chill wind passes over the surface of his glistening rod as he looks down to note the absence of that which he desired most in the world. Pressing his darling once more down onto their marriage bed, he readies himself for this, the sweetest of unions. Focusing his restraint and control, he places his considerable girth at her well-lubricated entrance. Slowly, methodically, he composes the melody of this, their ultimate union. When at last he finds himself completely enveloped in her sweet warmth, he knows for once why so many people throughout history considered this a sacred act.

The ebb and flow of their union brings each participant to new heights of sensation until such indescribable bliss can be contained no more. Slipping free of the confines of their individual being, two become one as their cosmic conjunction reaches its inevitable peak. Heaving from the effort of such a soul-defining moment, each participant slides over the precipice of sensation into blissful peace. All the striving, all the heartache, all the emptiness of life seems so trivial now in the face of the sublime alternative that had just presented itself. With a well satisfied sigh, Sidney encircles his lover, pulling her down with him into a well-deserved slumber.

Some hours later, in the waning sun of late afternoon, Sidney stands in awe as he looks over the chimneys that stretch on before him towards the ocean. After all his dismal failures, he never imagined an ending such as this. No, he realizes, this was not the ending; now all his life stretched out before him. Unlike the prison sentence existence had been, he senses a new hope dawning on the horizon. If such miracles as this were possible, what more might manifest itself as he steps into the future with the woman who had remade him by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who took this journey back to Sanditon with me. 
> 
> I have a limited number of spots available for people interested in becoming Beta Readers for my next novel. Simply reach out to me on Facebook to sign up. You can either find my page, Jeannette Keats' Treats, or message me directly.
> 
> XOXO,  
> Jeannette Keats
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/keatsbook


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